


What Kind Of Man

by Omoni



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Asgore/Toriel-centric, Canon Compliant, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Endgame, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Pre-Canon, Reconciliation, Spoilers - Undertale Pacifist Route, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 17:32:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 43,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14049285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omoni/pseuds/Omoni
Summary: When Toriel listens to a human song given to her by Frisk, she's overcome with emotion, as it seems deeply personal for her. It makes her remember a time that had no dead children, a time that had humans as friends, a time that had a perfect kingdom...And she had someone she loved deeply, a man she grew to love so deeply and freely, only to find herself, after so many years, married to a stranger.What kind of man loves like this?Credit for the title and the lyrics goes to Florence + The Machine and are copyrighted to them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to A Fan, who wanted more Asgore/Toriel, but with a few tweaks here and there. I decided to make it a slowish-burn story. (sorry x_x).
> 
> So it starts from pre-canon, to canon, then to post canon, with additional post-canon tidbits thrown in along the way. It's divided into three parts (probable five-ten chapters each). 
> 
> And yes, it ends very happy, indeed :).

**Prologue**

Humans had the strangest music, Toriel knew. She'd known before the barrier went up, and knew better after it went down.

But sometimes, thanks to Frisk, Toriel would find herself moved by human music. And there was one instance that had her not just moved – but shaken.

Frisk had left early for school that morning – she was still attending human school, while Toriel worked on plans for a school for monsters – one Frisk would then transfer to, hopefully.

Toriel had actually sat down at her desk to start work on those plans when she found the CD with a note taped to it. Blinking, she picked it up, noticing it was one she'd seen Frisk listen to but had never heard, before she checked the note.

 _“Mami,_  
_Track #2_  
_Trust me_  
_Frisk”_

Toriel frowned, confused, now, but Frisk's judgement, even at eleven, was one she'd taken to trust a great deal.

So, with a small smile and a shrug, she popped the CD into her computer, put it to the second track, and listened, leaning over the keyboard to start typing as she did.

But she froze the moment the music began to play, her eyes going wide from the first sentence. She listened, leaning back and staring at her computer blankly, her eyes still wide and her mouth open slightly, her hands held to her chest.

 _“I was on a heavy tip_  
_Trying to cross a canyon with a broken limb_  
_You were on the other side, like always_  
_Wondering what to do with life_

 _I'd already had a sip_  
_So I'd reasoned I was drunk enough to deal with it_  
_You were on the other side, like always_  
_You could never make your mind_

 _And with one kiss_  
_You inspired a fire of devotion that lasts for twenty years_  
_What kind of man loves like this?_

 _To let me dangle at a cruel angle_  
_Oh, my feet don't touch the floor_  
_Sometimes you're half in and then you're half out_  
_But you never close the door_

 _What kind of man loves like this?_  
_What kind of man?_  
_What kind of man loves like this?_  
_What kind of man?_

 _You're a holy fool, all coloured blue_  
_Red feet upon the floor_  
_You do such damage, how do you manage?_  
_You have me crawling back for more_

 _And with one kiss_  
_You inspired a fire of devotion that lasts for twenty years_  
_What kind of man loves like this?_

 _What kind of man loves like this?_  
_What kind of man?_  
_What kind of man loves like this?_  
_What kind of man?_

 _But I can't beat ya, cause I'm still with ya_  
_"Oh mercy, " I implore_  
_How do you do it? I think I'm through it_  
_Then I'm back against the wall_

_What kind of man loves like this?_

_What kind of man?”_

By the end, Toriel was crying, silent, painful tears that rolled down her cheeks and dropped upon her hands and desk. She trembled, her eyes closed, now, and she shook her head.

Frisk was too smart, she realised. She was way too smart for her own good.

When the next track started, Toriel's eyes opened and went to the computer, before she grabbed the mouse and clicked it back, setting it not only to replay, but to repeat.

She sat there for a long time, memories assaulting her like unwanted insects in her eyes and ears.

A childish laugh, one that was met with a shy but genuine smile.

Being given a nickname, something she'd never heard outside of her family before, before giving a similarly-created one right back – and finding equally returned joy.

Soft fingers tracing her own, rougher than her own, but no less soothing.

Softer words, whispered into her ear, words she believed and returned and chanced her entire life and future on...

_And with one kiss..._

Toriel didn't move for a long, long time, her mind in the past.


	2. Chapter 2

**PART ONE: FALL**

**Chapter One**

The first few days of a new season never failed to enchant Toriel. Be it the first leaves falling down and crunching beneath her bare feet, or the cold crunching of snow, or the sticky thickness of mud, or the dry abrasive grass... She loved it all, each time, for as long as she could possibly remember.

It was on such a day that she first met Asgore.

She'd paused in her walk home from an errand, looking up – then around – herself with obvious fascination, before she lit up and spotted them – the first pile of dried leaves.

Her heart leapt – and at the same time, she did, too – right toward them, before she knelt down and just shoved her hands into them, grinning happily. It was a childish thing to do, she knew, but she thought she was alone, so she allowed herself this childish reprieve.

But she wasn't alone; someone was standing behind her, watching her with surprise, as she'd just lunged to the side and jumped in. And she only noticed them once she was done fooling around, and was standing and brushing the remaining leaves on her clothes.

Her head then went up, as did the stranger's, and their eyes met.

For decades, Toriel often tried to explain what had gone through her mind in that moment, because it was so strange and almost too convoluted to explain. But still she tried. She always failed, but always tried. 

His eyes, she first noticed, weren't the same: one was bright, light blue, and the other an even brighter orange. They were so different and interesting in comparison to her own normal red eyes, and she found herself almost entranced.

She felt something almost click within herself at that moment, the moment those eyes focused on hers – and went wide with surprise.

Toriel inwardly started the count-down. It was always inevitable when someone recognised her, so she was used to it – and thus now waited.

She assumed that Asgore recognised her, but for some reason, he didn't say a word about it. Instead, he suddenly grinned, his eyes shining, and now she was the one frozen in surprise.

“They're always gorgeous, aren't they?” he said, his voice already deep with the promise of going even deeper with age. “I know they're technically dead, and we play in their corpses, but even in death, they're pretty. I'd love to be so useful, either alive or dead.”

They were strange words to say, almost too personal and too vague all at once, as well as incredibly morbid. But he nodded, his eyes lowering to the now-neat pile at their feet.

“Golly,” he concluded.

Toriel eyed him closer at that, wondering if that word was spoken in sarcasm. But it wasn’t, she saw: it was spoken sincerely. While she eyed him, she managed to get a better look at him, and was surprised by what she found.

He was a monster somewhat similar to herself, his origins clearly of the goat variety, like herself (though people would tease her and claim she was a cow). But his horns were longer than hers would ever be, and swept in curves above his brow. He was blond, she saw, with actual long hair (hers didn't grow long; it stayed very short), blond that would slowly smooth into white fur before thickening again to blond. He was as tall as she (a feat in itself) and was on the bulky side, but with a great deal of muscle.

She would've pegged him as an obvious athletic stereotype if it hadn't been for what he'd said about the leaves. When she glanced at his hands on a hunch, she was right: his hands, while mostly clean, still bore evidence of dirt and mud.

“You garden,” she observed.

He blinked, then nodded, going pink. “Yes,” he agreed. “I do a lot of landscaping. Family business.”

Toriel frowned. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

She paused. “Shouldn't you be in school, then?”

He shrugged. “Can't afford it. My parents need me more.”

She didn't like that. She was seventeen, and couldn't imagine a life without education. “You're poor?”

Asgore went pinker, looking down at his feet, and she blushed, then, too, realising how tactless that had been. But still he nodded. “We can't afford school and our livelihood, so we pick livelihood.” He shrugged again. “It's better than nothing, and I learn as much as I can from books.”

“What's your name?” she said sharply, suddenly deeply concerned by this casual admission.

“Asgore,” he replied, still staring at his feet. “We work with the Blooks.”

Toriel blinked. The Blooks were life-long suppliers of snails for her family, and while humans didn't seem to like snails as much as monsters did, they were still in demand.

“You lease from the Blooks?” she corrected.

“Yeah,” he agreed, swallowing hard. He looked ashamed.

Toriel stepped closer, feeling terrible, now. “Listen,” she said, “this is neither your fault nor your family's fault, alright? I will look into this. I thank you for telling me.”

Now he blinked, bemused. “Look into what? It's just the way it is. Isn't it the same for your family? Or, wait...” He looked over her clothes and went scarlet. “Sorry, of course not, you're... you're fine.”

“Asgore,” Toriel then said carefully, her eyebrows going up. “Do you know who I am?”

“You haven't told me, yet.”

Toriel stared at him. She'd _never_ encountered anyone in her whole life who didn't know her by sight – until now. It was both annoying and a relief, honestly.

“I'm Toriel,” she said calmly, her eyes remaining on his in order to judge his reaction. “It's nice to meet you, Asgore.”

Then she smiled brightly at him, the smile genuine, and his eyes flared as he stood up taller. She assumed it was because he realised who she was now, but when he opened his mouth, the words that came out shocked her.

 _“Golly,”_ he murmured again, scratching the back of his head with one hand shyly. Toriel felt a jolt; he was blushing! “Your smile... it's very nice.”

Now she was the one scarlet, struck dumb, again. He was being serious, and again, he said nothing about her name.

Then he jumped a little and pulled his hand away from his head to hold it out to her – only to then flush even redder and lowered it quickly, taking a step back and bowing deeply. She noticed he was shaking, and it confused her. Was he scared of her?

“It's an honour to meet you, Princess Toriel,” he then murmured, his voice wavering on her name. “I would apologise for not being formal at first, but...”

He then rose to his full height, meeting her gaze again. “I truly did not know who you were until you said your name, so I wasn't sure how formal I needed to be, but I can't help but relax.”

Then, he smiled brightly. And Toriel felt a sharp stab to her breast.

She was seventeen; she was no innocent. She'd been on many dates, all of them politically motivated, and while she'd felt amiability and best and loathing at worst with those she'd dated, when they'd smiled, she felt mere relief that they were enjoying themselves instead of possible connection. (She particularly found that female dates loved her company best).

But when this poor landscaper's son smiled at her with those mismatched eyes, she felt not mere affection, but the urge that she felt the need to learn more about him.

 _Much_ more.

She swallowed, using ever shred of decorum taught to her from when she was in diapers to keep herself calm, before she managed to say, “Thank you, Asgore. The pleasure is all mine.” She paused, then smiled. “No matter how foolish I looked.”

Asgore then laughed, a laugh that was a little high in pitch but infectious and genuine. His eyes sparked, and his smile was so wide and bright that his teeth showed, revealing a rather nice set of teeth, especially the longer canines.

Toriel's eyes flared, and she crossed her arms over her chest quickly. His laugh was unique, clearly a result of his voice changing, but she truly enjoyed it, and it made her smile and redden.

Then, she suddenly felt daring, and leaned down, scooping up two handfuls of leaves and tossing one over his head, the other on his chest. The moment that happened, his laughter increased, and he hunched over and wrapped his arms around his middle.

She couldn't help it: she started laughing, too. His face was so lit up, so happy, that it was impossible to ignore.

But when that happened, after a moment, Asgore began to quiet down, looking up at her with surprise, his face scarlet and his eyes watery, still grinning. When she managed to calm, she noticed, and their eyes met again, swallowing hard.

“Golly,” he whispered yet again, his face alight with such a sweet smile that, again, Toriel felt a stab to her heart – one that worsened when he went on. “Your laugh is much prettier than your smile, and I’m quite floored. I mean, I've heard rumours of the beauty of the princess, but I never imagined...” His voice cracked, and he coughed, quickly looking away.

Toriel was mute, her own face bright with pleasure from this. She could tell it was genuine, because she could see it on his face.

He meant it: he thought she was pretty.

She was used to hearing it, as it was practically everyone's duty to be told she was “beautiful”. Which, in turn, made her believe it even less.

But hearing it from Asgore was different. He had nothing to gain by saying it, nothing to butter her up for prior to demanding something from her, but he still said it. And he said it truthfully.

Her heart was aching, now. She didn't want to move. She just stared at him, noticing the leaves in his hair, and she bit her lip. She'd never felt this way before, least of all for someone she'd just met.

 _Oh no,_ she thought, her eyes flaring in surprise, and again she crossed her arms over her chest. _This... this is a problem._

Asgore smiled at her, then, making it worse. “Princess, you're definitely _not_ what I expected.”

Toriel smiled warmly. “Good.” She then paused, lowering her gaze, feeling a wave of actual shyness sweep through her. “I don't want to be something everyone expects. Least of all the people who hate me.”

Asgore blinked at her. “Who would hate you?” he demanded, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“I'm royalty, Asgore,” she replied with a dry smile. “Everyone. Especially now, with the rising tension.”

Asgore looked down, nodding. This was true. The strange tensions between humans and monsters kept escalating, and there were even rumours of war. As royalty and a politician (Underground royalty were never meant to be figureheads, but real people, for their people), she was privy to a great deal more than everyone else, and she was very nervous about it.

“Well,” she said, instead, surprised when her voice wavered. “Let's hope it's just whining.”

Asgore smiled. “Agreed.”

A small silence fell between them, their eyes locked, now. Asgore was looking at her with an emotion she didn't recognise – yet – and found affection sweep over her.

She wanted to see him, again. She wanted to be his friend.

“Asgore,” she began, standing up to her full, formal height, going into automatic royal mode. “You're a very kind person. I owe you for that kindness."

Asgore opened his mouth, flushing again, before he closed it. “But you're the princess.”

“I'm a princess but I'm still a monster!” she answered, losing her calm. “I'm still able to take the crown off, especially when merely pointing out the obvious.”

Asgore blinked hard several times, a gesture she would grow to understand – and love. “In that case _, I_ thank _you_ , Your Highness.”

Toriel suddenly hated hearing such formality from him, and she answered tersely, “I'm _Toriel_. When I'm anywhere but the Palace or at public functions, I'm just Toriel, just a monster who wears a shiny headband.”

Asgore laughed, and she smiled warmly, oddly proud of herself for making him laugh.

She wanted to do that, a lot, now.

“Asgore, I know people,” she said suddenly, once he was just smile. “I have to, it's my job. Therefore, I know a good person when I see them, and you are good, Asgore.”

Again, Asgore suddenly blinked very hard, his hands now tangled in front of him. “Well,” he stammered. “I try.”

Toriel had no idea where the next words came from, but they were the words that would link them together, forever.

“I am saying this because I would like to see you again, and be your friend.” She blushed. “I know that sounded dreadfully stuffy, but again.” She pointed to the crown atop her head and smiled wryly. “But it's true.”

“I'm not noble,” he blurted out with obvious shame.

“I'm not caring,” she replied. “I just want to be friends with you. If you would--?”

“Yes,” he answered quickly, his eyes flashing. “I'd love to see you again, Prin--,” her eyes narrowed, “--T-Toriel.”

She smiled, pleased. “Why don't we go out for dinner and deepen this wanted friendship?”

Asgore again nodded, lighting up. “I would love to.”

It sealed their fate forever, for greater good – and blatantly bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've noticed that most UT fic writers - myself, included - always assume that it was Asgore who was the royal heir. Therefore, I've decided that, in this version, to make Toriel the heir, and Asgore not. It could be construed as clichéd, save one important thing: the non-noble suiter rejected for their station in life will not be a factor in this fic, save doubts and fretting on Asgore's part. Other than that, the cliché doesn't apply.
> 
> I've also completely ignored the common "they hate each other at first and grow to love each other with time" Because I fucking loathe it and find it a toxic trope, despite having used it many times in the past. They like each other from the start, and that's that. 
> 
> I hope it's a refreshing change.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Two**

Dinner was not at all what Asgore expected, least of all from the crown princess of monsters.

He'd expected pomp and circumstance, fussy rules and stuffier food.

He had to ask her: “Shall I go home and get dressed?” She was, after all, wearing both royal robes and her crown.

But Toriel had snorted, something so anti-royalty that he'd stared at her in shock. “You're fine!” she'd told him.

Then, she'd grabbed a handful of leaves and shoved them into his hair. “No, _now_ you’re fine,” she'd concluded, and when he blushed, they both laughed.

And he'd kept them in place.

So when he found himself suddenly within a pub, he was surprised – and a touch wary. Asgore was social, but not very much; he had maybe one or two friends he could count on to always be there for him.

But this situation was far more different than any before it. The pub was crowded, loud, and mixed, the air thick with smoke and grease. He winced a little, but Toriel strode in and walked right to the bar, grinning so brightly that Asgore felt something jab him within his breast.

It relaxed him, that smile. It soothed him. He managed to find the courage to follow her with that smile, and when he gingerly sat down beside her, she aimed it at him – and he felt his stomach go wobbly.

“Mead?” she wondered. He nodded, just so that he could have something to hold in his hands, and she grinned brighter and waved to the bartender. “Hey, freeloader!”

The bartender, a flame monster with narrowed eyes, walked over to her and sighed. “Yes, Princess Sass?”

She laughed happily, and Asgore stared at them both in shock; how was it possible that someone as average as a bartender not only got away with talking to her like that, but in a way that made her laugh?

Asgore was a simple young man. He'd been raised that way. He had many things he loved – gardening, tea, politics – but he never thought he'd be in such august company. It made him incredibly nervous, despite knowing better.

Royalty was just that to monsters: royalty. Sure, it came with privileges, but monsters still saw their royalty as people, first – something they didn't share with the humans, who tended to view their own monarchs with deep reverence. Most monsters found that weird, but Asgore tended to agree with the humans; these were the people who dictated his way of life, who could take that life away with a mere blink.

And yet, here he was, in a _tavern_ with the princess of monsters, a princess who teased the bartender as if they were siblings. 

“Stop being a gnat,” Toriel was saying to the bartender. “Geoffrey, this is Asgore.” She placed her hand on Asgore's shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts and making him blush again. He looked up at Geoffrey, whose eyes lit up in a smile. “Asgore, this is Geoffrey.”

“Howdy,” Asgore murmured shyly.

“Nice to meet you,” Geoffrey agreed amicably. “How did this little brat drag you in here?”

Toriel scowled at him, but Asgore sat up, mortified by this. “No, she's not, she didn't!” he stammered, feeling his whole face burn, now. “She... I met her, and... and the leaves, and...”

Toriel stared at him, wearing an expression he'd never recognise until at least a year later: delighted affection. She reached over and covered his hand with her own – her right; she wore the royal signet ring on her index finger – and smiled at him again. Asgore felt his knees get mushy at that, and he lost all ability to speak.

Toriel would end up doing that a lot; she was just the kind of person that seemed to attract awe, and he was no exception.

“I just met him today,” Toriel then said, keeping her hand in place. Asgore stared at it, still red. “He's really sweet.”

Asgore's head jerked up in shock, and their eyes met. Toriel’s were bright red, and glittered. He knew it was cliché, but they were like rubies: translucent, with purple hues, and always glittering. He couldn't look away.

Strangely, Toriel seemed similarly frozen, her smile shrinking a little when their eyes locked. She searched his face, then his eyes, before something happened, something he'd never, ever forget.

She blushed.

Apparently this was a novelty, as Geoffrey was staring at her, too. He blinked, then turned away and grabbed two mugs, filling them both to the brim with golden mead. It was only when he placed them upon the table that they snapped out of it.

“First round is on me,” Geoffrey announced.

Toriel blinked, then turned to him, scowling. “Don't be a moron. Put it on my tab.”

“No.”

“Geoff!”

“I'll pay,” Asgore broke in shyly. “I can afford it.”

“First round is on _me_ , whether you like it or not,” Geoffrey answered. “Consider it a welcome drink.”

Toriel sighed but gave up, pulling her hand away to take hold of her drink and sip it. She grinned, her eyes closing, and she relaxed. “Nice,” she murmured. “Very sweet. This batch is _wonderful_ , G. Tell Blaise for me?” And Geoffrey nodded, looking pleased.

Asgore blinked, then sipped it, curious. He then jumped in surprise: it was very sweet, and very cold. It was a smooth kind of burn, and it made him feel silly right away. He wasn't much of a drinker, and was a lightweight despite his size, so he paced himself.

It wouldn't last.

“Golly,” he murmured. “This is _fantastic_. Please let me pay.”

“You got a sweet tooth, too, eh?” Geoffrey replied, moving as he spoke to fill more drinks for other customers – customers who barely blinked at Toriel, save to greet her jovially, like an old friend. Asgore suddenly realised that this must be a common haunt for the princess, and once again felt his shyness silence him.

So in reply, he nodded, taking another sip to hide that shyness.

Toriel was gazing at him, her cheeks still pink, and not from the alcohol. She swallowed, her eyes going to Geoffrey for a moment, and when he nodded a little, she smiled, looking down into her mug.

Asgore had no real idea what that meant until much later.

“So, Asgore, was it?” When he nodded, Geoffrey continued. “What do you do, Asgore?”

“I landscape,” he admitted. “Freelance, and usually with my mom. My dad works the land, too; he grows tea.”

Toriel smiled. “The tea your father grows is incredible. We order from him all the time.”

Asgore nodded, blushing yet again. He wished he could control that. “Yes, he loves that. He works extra-hard to make sure you and your family get the best.” He them smiled. “Now I know why.”

“Why?” Geoffrey asked.

Asgore smiled wider at Toriel, who blinked. “Because. You're kind, and deserve the best.”

Toriel's smile vanished, and for a moment, he feared that he was being too forward. But then her face went crimson, and her eyes sparked with obvious happiness. She clearly took it as the compliment it was, and it made him happy.

Then, he hurriedly took a burning gulp of mead, wincing a little. He _had_ to: his brain had finally caught up with his heart, and it shocked him.

He liked Toriel. A lot. And he didn't want this to be the only time they spent time together.

Toriel was staring at him again, her face still red – but her smile had returned, and it reached her eyes, something that made him feel squishy all over, now.

“Asgore,” Toriel then said, her eyes locking onto his.

He nodded shyly, sipping again, and she reached over and covered his hand with her own once more – only this time, she closed her fingers around his hand and held it firmly. She had long fingers, he noticed, long, agile fingers, with blunt claws – more like thick nails – and covered in soft fur, like his own.

He liked it. He liked how it felt. When he flipped his hand over and held her hand in return, he liked that even better.

“Asgore,” Toriel repeated, her eyes bright. “May I be forward?”

He nodded again, feeling butterflies explode in his belly, especially when he felt Toriel hold his hand firmer. 

“I enjoy your company. A lot,” she said, her voice wavering a little. “You're so sweet, and so kind. And you're funny.” She grinned, reaching up with her other hand and pulling a leaf from his hair, and he laughed softly. “I'd love to see you again, soon--,”

“Yes,” he blurted out, before she even finished, and he felt his face flush again. “Yes, please.”

Toriel suddenly lit up, beaming at him, smiling so wide her fangs showed quite keenly. When he saw them, Asgore had a thought so shocking and random that he went mute.

_How would it feel to kiss that grin? To feel it against my own lips? How would it feel to have those teeth sink into my neck, my shoulder, wherever?_

His eyes flared, the blood now rushing to both his face – and elsewhere, shocking him. He was young, true, but when it came to romance, he wasn't as interested as most people his age. He'd once been in love with his now-best friend, Wing (whom he'd nicknamed Wag, a play on his initials), but when it was clear it wasn't mutual, he let it go quite easily and found himself satisfied with their friendship.

This was the first time he'd ever felt actual _attraction_ , a kind that overtook him and made him feel ridiculous. And he felt slightly ashamed, because this was the princess - _the princess!_ \- and yet here he was acting like a billy-goat in heat.

But to his surprise, Toriel suddenly went crimson, too, and her hand tightened its hold on his, feeling very warm all of a sudden. When he saw that, he was shocked.

_Was it possible...?_

“What'll you eat?” Geoffrey suddenly asked, scaring them both into yelping and pulling their hands apart. The bartender smirked at Toriel, but gave Asgore a kind smile.

Toriel then turned to Asgore. “Anything you want, okay? On me.”

Then she grinned again, this time so brilliantly and so freely that Asgore was breathless.

He knew it was at that exact moment when it happened, and he never forgot it.

That was the second he fell in love with her.

And it was a love that would never die.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Three**

By the time night had fallen, Toriel was a little drunk.

This wasn't unusual, really; she loved alcohol, and loved company. She usually got tipsy every time she came by, and often drank several friends under the table until she was quite drunk – and then moved on to singing with whichever band was playing until she sobered up. 

This time was different. Very different.

It was also clear that, by then, Asgore was rather tipsy, himself, despite only having two mugs of mead and a rather large meal. And the more he drank, the more relaxed he became. And with that, he began to lose his shyness – and reveal more of himself to her.

And with every revelation, Toriel found herself teetering on an edge she'd never been on, before – and it was not just because of the booze.

It was him. She was drunk on _him_.

And she found she rather liked it.

“Golly,” he murmured, clearing his throat – before snorting and giggling, covering his mouth.

Toriel grinned at him. By now, she knew he was an only child, had plans to take over his family's business so his mother could retire early, and loved pie. In return, he knew that she was also an only child, loved politics, found humans fascinating, and also loved pie.

It was lovely.

“Hungry?” she wondered. They hadn't eaten in at least an hour, and she wondered if they should keep doing so, in order to soak up the alcohol.

“Oof,” he answered. “The meal I had was quite enough. And then some.” And he giggled again, turning away.

Toriel grinned wider, her cheek on her hand. “Wanna get out of here?” she asked, instead.

He nodded. “I need fresh air in the worst way,” he admitted.

Toriel waved Geoffrey over, paid the tab, then held her hand out to Asgore. He stared at it for a moment, going pink, before he took it. When she closed her hand over his, she felt his fingers tremble.

That made her happy.

She led him through the increasing crowd of people, occasionally exchanging a few choice words with several of her friends. Asgore, through it all, said nothing; he merely nodded shyly or pretended he was deaf. At first, she fear it was because he didn't want to be around her. But when she loosened her hold on his hand, he gripped hers tighter, and she corrected herself.

 _He's shy,_ she concluded. _He's so very shy. And yet he's opened up to me._

It made her suddenly desperate to leave. She stopped talking and decided to take a complete beeline to the door. She only spoke when she didn't need to stop, and when someone tried to stop her, she grinned in a way that she knew would make them back off.

But they made it. The moment they were out and had staggered a few feet away, Asgore visibly relaxed. He put his hand to his chest and sighed, closing his eyes. His other hand, however, still held hers.

She leaned closer. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, smiling. “I am now,” he agreed, his words a little slow around the edges. “That kind of air... It doesn't really agree with me that much.”

Toriel smiled. “More used to fresh outdoor air?”

“Yes!” he agreed, smiling wider. “That's something I'll never tired of: the fresh air, the feel of the sun on my shoulders, or the crispness of a fall morning, or the wet touch of humid rain, or...” He trailed off, his smile vanishing, and even in the dim light, Toriel could see he was blushing. “Sorry,” he concluded.

“What for?” she asked, nudging his shoulder. “Or? Keep going. And let's walk.”

Asgore blinked at her, then nodded, clearing his throat and hesitating a little, before he went on. As he did, they started to walk at a slow, leisurely pace, neither really knowing where they were going. They both had things to do the next day, but at the same time, knew there was still enough time to spare for this.

And if not, they'd _make_ the time.

That was how Toriel felt, in any case. She listened to Asgore talk about the myriad kinds of weather, how it felt to work with those kinds, and how it in turn worked on his senses. She found herself spellbound; she was quiet, listening to him, finding that she didn't want to interrupt or interject. Which, she realised, was unusual, especially this tipsy.

Clearly, Asgore demanded her full attention. And she was happy to give it.

Suddenly, Asgore stopped in mid-step, surprising Toriel into staggering a bit when she turned around. He was staring ahead, his eyes wide, and he looked bewildered.

“Golly,” he murmured. “I don't know where we are or how to get home.”

Toriel laughed. She couldn't help it; his expression, the inflection on those words, the way he stared ahead of him... She found it very endearing.

She moved back and grabbed his hand into hers, surprising him. He looked down at their hands, his mouth open, before he looked up at her, his face reddening.

“I need that back,” he said, very sincerely. "Will you give it back to me when you're done?"

“Maybe,” she replied. “I know the way to your home. I'll get you there.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, his eyes now on hers. She stared into them, admiring their different colours, noticing that, at some point, the colours had switched eyes. She wondered if they changed with emotions. She wondered how often they changed and if they ever matched.

She decided she would make sure to find out.

Together, they walked. Asgore held her hand tight, clearly nervous; he was a skittish drunk, she concluded affectionately, one that needed coddling and care.

She liked that, too.

“Do you know how to make tea?” she asked, genuinely curious. As an avid tea-drinker, herself, she was always happy to learn about her beverage of choice. (Yes, even above alcohol.)

Asgore suddenly lit up, a smile gracing his lips and lighting up his eyes. This time, _she_ was the one who blushed; it was a beautiful smile.

“Yes!” he agreed, tightening his hold on her hand again, so hard she knew that her ring dug into his hand. But he didn't flinch; he either didn't feel it, or didn't care – and she liked that, too. “I love tea,” he continued. “It's wonderful!”

Toriel smiled at him. “Tell me.”

So he did; he immediately launched into a long, slightly-slurred and stammered monologue about tea. He began with his first taste (burnt his tongue, but he liked it so much he kept drinking, anyway), his first batch (oversteeped and so bitter that it had to be thrown away), and his first harvesting (almost perfect; he only ruined two or three leaves).

By the time he'd finished the last, he stopped again, his eyes wide. “Oh, no!” he blurted out. “This is where I live!”

Toriel grinned. “Yes, but why is that bad?”

Asgore jumped, seeming to realise what he'd said. “I mean... well... I just... would've liked more time... to, uh...” He trailed off, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. His other hand still held hers.

She took advantage of that.

She took hold of that hand in both of her own and tugged on it hard. Asgore stumbled with a yelp, teetering forward with the grace of a boulder.

Toriel, however, simply caught him. She opened her arms and caught him, holding him around his waist and keeping him close to her.

She shivered when that happened. Feeling him so closely against her was a very new sensation, indeed. She was no innocent, and had had several moments of kissing and petting (again, usually the girls), but this was nothing like any of that. When she'd embraced those past suitors, she'd felt affection, but no _passion_ – it was what usually led her to those kisses, because she _wanted_ to feel passion, and hoped to illicit it within her by kissing. And while the kissing had been nice, it had never been _passionate_.

The moment she found herself embracing Asgore, she felt it. She knew what it was the moment she felt it, despite never having felt it before.

It shocked her.

 _It really_ does _feel like heat_ , she realised, blinking hard the moment Asgore's eyes met hers – and he placed his hands on her shoulders for balance. _It feels like heat, like liquid fire in my blood. It feels like it wants to consume me. And I'd be happy to be consumed._

She felt herself shaking, then. She suddenly felt completely sober, as if all she'd had was strong tea. When Asgore said nothing – simply stared at her with visible shock and shyness – she felt a sweet, melancholic ache strike her heart.

The moment she saw those mismatched eyes grow warm, she knew.

She was in love. She desired this young man. She yearned for him, despite him being right in front of her.

There had been silence between them for several minutes, now, both just staring at each other in shock, as they both held the other up – and close.

“T-Tori... el...” he stammered, before blushing deeper. “Toriel, sorry... My brain is pickled...”

Toriel smiled, and she saw something in his eyes waver. “Tori?” she repeated. “I... I like that.”

“N-no, it was because... I think I’m drunk...” Asgore shifted a little, clearing his throat. “I feel ridiculous. I feel like an idiot. I feel...” He trailed off uneasily, looking away quickly and trying to pull free of her.

But she held him tight, curious, and when she'd pulled him back, her eyes widened in shock – and a wild grin suddenly played upon her lips. In that moment, she felt a delicious thrill unfurl within her belly, one that grew when, the moment they were close again, Asgore breathed out, the sound vocal and shaky.

Against her hip, she felt it: Asgore was very, very aroused, indeed.

“Sorry,” he stammered, trying to pull away again. “It's not... I-I don't _mean_ to... I just...”

“Asgore,” she broke in, still smiling. She reached up and curled her hand around his burning cheek, and he looked back at her, startled. “Look at me. _Really_ look at me.”

Asgore did, and Toriel felt him shaking a little, too. His eyes searched her face, and she didn't flinch. Instead, she met his gaze head-on, and when his eyes returned to hers, they were bright.

“But... I'm...” Asgore's voice was raspy, and his hands tightened their hold on her shoulders. “I'm not… I'm just...”

“Asgore,” Toriel repeated, shifting deliberately as she said his name. He shuddered, lowering his head, and she raised hers, so that their foreheads pressed together. “You're anything but ‘just' _anything_. Least of all to me.”

“Princess,” he answered, confirming her suspicions. “I'm... I should go… I-I'm drunk, I’m _very_ drunk...”

“You're just tipsy,” she answered. “What you feel most of all is not because of mead, and we both know it, Asgore."

“No,” he finally agreed, shutting his eyes. “No. I’m drunk... on-on... _you_...”

Toriel's heart broke open, then. Hearing her own thought returned to her, only in such an endearing, adorable way, shattered any hesitation she may have had left.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

His eyes opened in surprise, meeting hers. She nodded, biting down on her lip hard to keep from begging. She _needed_ to kiss him. She needed to know if what she was feeling was true.

“Is... is that a command?” he wondered.

Toriel wasn't sure if he was being serious or not, so she answered it as if he was. “Of course not. It's a request, a question, a... a _need_...”

Asgore then touched her face. His hand was big, bigger than her own, and a bit rough from obviously hard outdoor work. But it was a soft, warm, comforting hand, and she closed her eyes and leaned into it.

From afar, Toriel wondered at herself, at her boldness. She was always bold, always honest and outspoken, but this was a new kind of bold, one she'd never felt before. She wondered if it was bad, or childish, or even silly.

_Am I making a complete fool of myself?_

“Toriel--,”

“Tori,” she whispered. “Please. Call me Tori.”

“Tori, I…” Asgore shivered again, and again, she felt that he was still aroused. “I _want_ to kiss you. I do. But... I don't want you to think I’m taking advantage of y--mmph!”

Toriel had had enough. She reached up, grabbed hold of his face, and pulled him to her. Their lips met, and Asgore jumped – then suddenly seemed to melt, to thaw out, to _ignite_ alongside her. He wrapped his arms around her and returned it, and she was the one who shivered, then. His kiss was a little shy, a little clumsy, but soon, as they continued, he started to get used to her, and it got better.

The second that happened, Toriel's eyes snapped open. She slid her arms around Asgore's neck, tangling her hands into his hair, and she stared at him, even as she kept kissing him, even as she felt him hold her closer and tighter.

She _knew_. She knew it like a second skin.

And again, she broke open. She closed her eyes – they were stinging a little in her shock – and moved her head closer, deepening their kiss by licking his lips gently apart. He jolted in shock, something that surprised her, and they broke apart, still in each other's arms, but no longer kissing.

“Asgore?” Toriel murmured, pressing her forehead to his. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing hard, still shaking and warm. He nodded, though, and kept her close, so she added, “Would...? Would you like to...?”

Toriel hesitated; she'd never asked this before, had never wanted to, before. But now, it was all she could think about.

“Would you like my company... inside?” she finished quickly, her heart racing.

Asgore opened his mouth, his eyes opening and widening in shock. “What?”

“I would really like it... if we... I-if we...” She then stopped, understand his expression: he looked conflicted, true, but also… a little scared. Nervous. Wary.

And with his next sentence, he confirmed it. “I've never… I… haven't,” he muttered, looking away with visible embarrassment.

“Nor have I,” she replied. He looked up, blinking, and she nodded. “It's true. I’ve never asked anyone that, before. I've never wanted to.”

“But with me, you want to?” Asgore looked bewildered, again, and she realised that he genuinely had no idea why she was so obviously attracted to him.

It made her sad; had no one else seen him and noticed his beauty, both physical and emotional? It made no sense to her.

_How can the people I'm meant to rule one day be so damned blind?!_

“Yes,” Toriel said firmly, nodding.

Asgore stared at her. “You.” He blinked hard, and when Toriel looked closer, she noticed that he'd actually paled. “You want... me?”

“Yes,” she repeated.

“Golly...” he whispered.

And with that, he fainted: in the arms of the princess of monsters and on the front lawn of his own house.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Four**

When he thought about it later, Asgore realised that, in that moment, he'd literally fallen at Toriel's feet.

And though he'd been moved inside his house with help from his parents, he also knew that he would always remain fallen at Toriel's feet.

He woke up slowly, confused and feeling like his head was stuffed with cotton. He didn't remember what had even happened prior to that moment for a little bit – and perhaps that was a small mercy.

“Gorey,” he heard his father say softly to him. He then felt his father's hand on his forehead, and he nodded, blinking several times in order to keep his eyes open.

Eyes that fell not on his father – but on Princess Toriel's.

She was sitting right beside him, looking worried, her eyes a little dark with that worry. She looked pale, but when their eyes met, something sparked in hers, and her cheeks went pink. He swallowed hard, feeling his own face heat up, and he found himself speechless.

“Gorey, what happened?” his mother asked gently from his other side. “The Princess says you fainted!”

Asgore looked at said Princess, unsure of what to say and feeling a little panicked about it.

 _I can't tell them I passed out because all of the blood left my brain and went right to my cock!_ he thought furiously, his whole face burning _. I can't tell them that that happened because the Princess of our people had just asked me to be intimate with her!_

Toriel's eyes seemed to glow, then, as if sensing his thought process. She smiled faintly, nodding, and before he could, she answered for him.

“I met your son this afternoon,” she said calmly. Suddenly, he felt her take hold of his hand, and he closed his eyes, swallowing hard. Even her hand had the power to make him feel weak. “He found me in a pile of leaves and was very sweet about it. I took him to dinner, but I think I gave him too much to drink.”

His parents glanced at each other, sharing a similar, knowing expression, and he suddenly wished he would just disappear.

This was so humiliating. Why couldn't he of just kept calm like a _normal_ monster?!

 _Because she's beautiful,_ his mind replied unhelpfully. _And most of it from the inside. How can I keep calm when placed before such beauty?_

“Well,” his mother sighed. “He _is_ a lightweight, despite being a heavyweight everywhere else.”

Asgore glared at her; he got his strength and size from her, and found it hypocritical. In reply, she smirked.

“Truly, I'm sorry, Mr Silas, Ms Goryn,” Toriel said, then, though when he looked at her, Asgore saw she was smiling. “He was just so kind to me that I wanted to be kind in return. And now, well, now I've grown quite fond of him.”

His parents blinked at her in shock. “But...” Silas stammered softly. “You're the Princess.”

Toriel sighed, her smile fading. “Really? I had no idea!” she answered.

Asgore decided that the time was now. “Tori,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “Th-thank you. So much. For the entire day – and evening.”

Toriel's expression immediately softened, and the smile returned – and reached her eyes.

“It's late, but would you like some tea, Princess?” Silas sudden said, looking as shy as his son. “As our way of thanking you for looking after our Gorey.”

Toriel went pink. “I would love that,” she said softly.

Asgore searched her face closely, both intrigued and concerned by the tone of her voice. When she looked back at him, she smiled again, and when both of his parents had turned away, she quickly darted down and kissed him, right on his lips. It was brief, but it was like a shock to him, and he was holding onto her before he even knew it.

He suddenly forgot where he was, who he was with, and what he was even doing, save the fact that he and Toriel were kissing again.

But then, Toriel suddenly pulled away and got to her feet – but not before giving him a wild, thrilled grin, one that made her eyes glitter. When she did, his parents turned back to them, and while he went scarlet, she looked calm and collected – though she was still a little pink.

“Asgore, come help me while your mother keeps the Princess company,” Silas called, and Asgore scrambled to his feet and followed him, only now realising that he had been lying on the couch in the living room.

He felt both giddy and wary, excited and concerned, and it was annoying. He personally wasn't sure that he deserved Toriel's attention, and now that he knew his parents felt the same way, he felt even worse. It flustered him.

It was clear that Toriel liked him, and knew that he liked her. And it was clear that she was interested in more than friendship.

Toriel saw him as someone worthy of her attention. Wasn't _her_ opinion the _only_ one that truly mattered?

 _Yes_ , he thought, as he caught up with his father in the kitchen. _Hers is the only one I care about._

So when he lit the burner and went to the pump for fresh water, he was silent. Silas was watching him, his bright blue eyes following his every move, but Asgore wasn't intimidated. He wondered if he was still drunk, because normally, all it would take was eye contact from his father to be intimidated. But here he was, under the gaze in full, and he had yet to pause or stumble.

“Asgore,” Silas then said softly, the moment they both heard Toriel and Goryn begin to chat. “What on earth happened?”

“She was telling the truth,” Asgore replied honestly. They worked as they spoke, the calming, by-heart ritual of tea-making second nature to them both. “We met, and she took me out to dinner. I... I _did_ have too much to drink.” He went red at that. “And I got overwhelmed and passed out on the way home.”

“But the Princess, Asgore?!” Silas hissed at him, setting the sugar jar down a little too hard. “Drinking and fainting in front of the _Princess?!”_

Asgore nodded, speechless for a moment. In that silence, he heard Toriel laugh softly, and his heart soared. He smiled faintly, his eyes unfocused, until his father touched his arm, and he snapped out of it.

“Asgore,” Silas growled. “You better not be.”

Asgore swallowed hard, looking at him shyly, before grabbing the tray and turning away, hurriedly rushing to where his mother and Toriel were.

Because he was. He absolutely was.

When he sat down, he sat down beside his mother – but across from Toriel. The moment he did, her eyes went right to his, and they glittered with what he now knew was mirth.

“So, _Gorey,”_ she said, and immediately he went scarlet, dropping the tray in surprise. “We were just talking about what you and I talked about.”

Asgore stared at her. “You did what?”

Toriel laughed, going pink, herself, though his parents exchanged confused glances. “Yes,” she agreed when she could. “About your _schooling.”_

Asgore coughed, pouring the tea to distract himself from saying anything; he knew if he tried, he'd likely blurt out the wrong thing.

“It's true,” Goryn sighed, glancing at her husband. “We do well enough, but schooling – outside the government-mandated grades – is something we cannot afford for our poor Gorey. The moment he was sixteen, he was done.”

“It's fine,” he said quickly, meaning it. “I honestly don't mind, Mom. If it means less work for you, I’m fine with it.”

Goryn smiled at him, taking his hand when he handed her a cup. “You're a good boy, Gorey,” she said gently. “But there are others your age who aren't as satisfied, but whom are in the same situation.”

Silas was silent through all of this, his eyes fixated on his son. Asgore knew, but pretended not to. He knew he'd get a lecture the moment Toriel left, and he wasn't looking forward to it.

“I fully intend to do something about it,” Toriel spoke up, her voice strong and clear.

She then sipped her tea – and smiled. “Asgore, you knew I like it sweet?”

He nodded. “Given your fondness for mead, I figured it was a given.”

She smiled brighter at him, and he smiled back, blushing yet again.

Once again, he felt a stab to his heart, and he had to look away, swallowing hard.

Silas's eyes narrowed, but he kept his silence.

The tea was brief, given the hour, but delicious, and Asgore regretted it when Toriel had to leave. Both of his parents expressed concern for her walking alone at night, but she smirked.

“I’m _never_ alone,” she corrected. “You just never see it.”

Asgore jolted, realising what that meant, and he gaped at her, his whole body flushing, now. She grinned at him, nodding, and he wanted to faint again.

“Thank you for pouring our son back home,” Goryn added, touching Toriel's shoulder gently. “It was a kindness that went beyond your duties.”

Toriel, instead of agreeing, like Asgore had expected, looked offended. “It absolutely did _not,”_ she answered, standing up taller. “Caring for my people _is_ my duty. And Asgore is one of those people.”

Silas nodded. “Thank you, then. I hope he didn't inconvenience you too greatly.”

Her eyes went to Asgore's, and she smiled warmly. “Not at all. I had a wonderful time. I would love to see your son again.” She looked between his parents. “Would that be alright?”

They stared at her – including Asgore.

“Yes,” Asgore blurted out, and Goryn nodded, as well.

Silas, however, merely raised an eyebrow.

“Thank you,” Toriel replied, reaching out and touching Asgore's hand for a moment. “I see a great friend in your son.”

Then, with a bow – and a grin to Asgore – she left.

The moment the door closed, Goryn grabbed her son's face and said, “Gorey, what the hell was _that?!”_

“Uh,” Asgore stammered, honestly feeling a little light-headed again.

“Let him go,” Silas cut in. “Asgore, go to bed, sleep off the drink. Tomorrow, we'll discuss this. Understand?”

Asgore nodded, and Goryn pulled her hands away.

The moment he was dismissed, he escaped to his room and shut the door, lying down on his bed and curling up into a ball, his eyes wide.

 _What the fuck had been this day?_ he thought, using language he'd only ever think.

His heart, however, sang, and it was its lullaby that lulled him to sleep.

And he dreamt only of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please get the joke with the names, for the love of fuck.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Five**

Toriel practically floated home. The moment she was close enough, she waved over her bodyguards, a dragon named Ingrid and an otter named Alex, and said, “Add him to the safe list.”

Ingrid blinked, but nodded.

Alex, however, protested. “Princess, you _just_ met him,” they said, their eyes wide with doubt. “You drank and dined and necked with him. That's not enough to add him to the list.”

Toriel stopped, then turned to Alex. (Ingrid, visibly paling, backed away a little from her mistress.) “I’m sorry,” she said icily. “Do _you_ wear this crown?”

Alex blanched. “No, of course not, Princess.”

“Do _you_ take the risks, make the decisions, have the same challenges, as one who _does?”_

“No, Princess,” they stammered.

“So...?” Toriel waved her hand at them, and with a sigh, they nodded.

Alex was older than both Toriel and Ingrid, just between her age and her parents' age, so it was understandable that they would get a little overprotective. And while Toriel valued and appreciated that protection and willingness to speak up, she didn't like personal things like this to be questioned.

Toriel knew _exactly_ what she wanted from Asgore. And the very least she could do was put him on the safe list.

When she got to the Palace her family shared with the humans' Royal Family of Ebott – at this time a prosperous city, almost like a small country in its own right – and climbed in through the back way.

Only Alex and Ingrid knew, and they knew better than to tell anyone.

She managed to get to her bedroom and had just slipped into a nightgown when the door opened. She turned, her face flaring bright red in both anger and embarrassment – only to pale and go silent, swallowing hard.

Her mother stood there, her arms crossed the moment the door was closed behind her, and she glared at her teenaged daughter, not saying anything for a moment.

Toriel broke into a sweat, embarrassed for a new reason, now, and she smiled weakly. "Uh--,”

“Toriel Dreemurr,” her mother grumbled. “Were you out drinking, again?”

Toriel looked away. “Nooo...” Her eyes slid to her mother's as she said it, and when they met, she blushed deeper. “Yes,” she corrected, lowering her head.

“Sit.”

Toriel obeyed, sitting down on her bed. Alexandrine sighed, then sat down beside her. Toriel looked up at her shyly; she looked more like her father than her mother, so the woman who sat beside her was more equine than she. But she had the same gentle roundness, the same tall bearing – and the same fierce, bright red eyes.

“Explain.” It was a command, not an offer.

Toriel hesitated, unsure of how to even do so. How could she explain it? That a moment of foolish, childish fancy had led her to meet a young man she was immediately infatuated with? 

“Is it a girl?” Alexandrine asked suddenly, her voice soft. Toriel looked up in surprise, and found gentle understanding, there.

Toriel blinked back sudden tears; she'd had no idea that her mother shared the same preferences as she, nor had she realised that Alexandrine had noticed that preference.

“No,” she admitted, and her mother was the one surprised, this time. “A boy. A young man.”

“Oh, dear,” Alexandrine said, sighing. “Don't tell Edgar, yet. He'll be _so_ upset. He wanted another daughter.”

Toriel jumped, her mouth going dry. “W-wait, Mother, I n-never said--!”

Alexandrine smiled, shutting her up, and touched her cheek, tilting her face up and looking at her with such affection that she was spellbound.

“Trust me, Tori, dear,” she said softly, her other hand reaching up and stroking her ear. “I understand _that_ , as well. I _am_ married to your father, after all. Ed is my world.”

Toriel smiled at that. She loved knowing that her parents were still in love, over two decades later. Monsters, unlike humans, married for love, but it was always nice to be reminded that your parents loved each other all the same.

“Tori, you're still young, but...” Alexandrine sighed. “But then again, I knew Ed was mine when I was sixteen.” She smiled again.

“Just...” And here she took hold of Toriel's face and shook it gently. “Stop being such a _lush!”_

Toriel both laughed and blushed. “But it's so much fun!”

“Silly,” Alexandrine replied, kissing Toriel's forehead. “Go to bed and think about what you've done, and you can tell me all about him tomorrow.”

“Mother, I haven't _done him,”_ Toriel answered.

But inwardly, she added, _Yet._

“Still,” was all her mother would say, smiling and giving her another kiss, before getting up and leaving the room, still smiling as she shut the door.

Toriel sighed, then took off her crown, staring at it for a moment. It was such a simple piece of jewellery – gaudy, even – but she knew it was merely a symbol of her future.

She knew she would be Queen. She knew she would lead. And she knew it would be up to her to try to maintain the fragile peace between monsters and humans.

It scared her. A lot.

She bit her lip. She knew she needed a partner beside her, one who would hold her up and hold her close through it all.

Was that person Asgore?

Or was Asgore simply a fancy?

She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead to the crown, sniffling a little.

She _wanted_ him to be. She wanted him to be, _very_ much. She knew he would be good, _so_ good.

When she lost her temper, she knew he'd be gentle. When she was careless, he would care extra-hard to make up for her lack.

She didn't know _how_ she knew these things, but she did. Almost as well as the fire in her blood.

“Well,” she whispered, lying back onto her bed, letting her crown drop alongside her. “Only one way to find out.”

She curled up, then, under the covers, and lulled herself to sleep with images of what it could be like.

And as a result, she dreamt of a future that would be, one she would recognise only once she was living it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Gaster. What do we know about him? Not much. Not much at all. Only Mr Fox knows all of his story, and thus writers like us are forced to use conjecture and fill in the gaps, ourselves.
> 
> Thus, this note. Wing IS Gaster. There should be no doubts about that. But Gaster who is whole, who is still himself, who has not been corrupted, yet - or split. 
> 
> Everything to do with Gaster in this story is 90% invention, 10% canon - because that's really the amount we know about him. I've also left most of his physical looks up to the reader to decide. So... if Wing isn't how you see Gaster, I do apologise in advance. But this is how he popped up in my head while writing this, and I always trust my muses. 
> 
> ;3

**Chapter Six**

Asgore, unsurprisingly, woke up with a hangover. The tea had helped, definitely, but the moment the dawn's light fell on his face, he groaned, wincing and turning away.

He must've done it too loud, because not long after, his door opened, and his mother called: “Get up, you oaf!”

She said it with a laugh, though, so he found himself smiling despite the headache. He crawled out of bed and staggered down the hall and to the kitchen, where his mother already sat as his father made breakfast.

Asgore winced when he smelt the food, the odour making him nauseated instead of hungry, like it usually did. He sat down heavily beside Goryn, and she snorted and shoved a glass of water at him. He took it and sipped it gratefully.

But then Silas spoilt it by shouting out, “One egg or two, Gorey?!”

He groaned, his head dropping to the table, and Goryn laughed even louder, making him clutch at his head.

“Mercy, for the love of god,” Asgore pleaded.

“No,” Silas answered, slamming the plates down on the table with a loud bang. “You were a fool last night, Asgore.”

Asgore was silent, the whole night rushing back to him with that one acerbic comment. His eyes flashed, switching colours in his shock, before he closed them and hid his face.

Because he couldn't hide the smile from his face, and knew it would only anger his father further. Especially since, now, he didn't regret any of it.

The way Toriel had laughed, had teased him, had told him such personal things...

The way she'd kept touching his arm, or hand, or shoulder - once, even his knee...

The way... the way she'd kissed him... and asked him to... to...

His face burned, and he dug his fingers into his hair, his nails digging into his scalp.

 _Fuck,_ he thought.

“Golly,” he muttered, his voice bewildered.

He felt Goryn touch his arm, and he looked up slowly, making sure his eyes were the only visible part of his face. When their eyes met, hers sparked, too, and her smile vanished in shock.

“Golly, indeed,” she replied, her other hand going to her mouth. “Gorey, did you...?”

His head jerked up – and he immediately regretted it, wincing and closing his eyes, lowering it again. “No!” he croaked out. “It's not... We didn't... What?!”

Silas sat down and slammed the last dish down – the teapot. Goryn shot him a sharp look, but he ignored it, glaring at his son.

“But?” Silas pressed, his voice icy.

“Uh,” Asgore stammered, before his eyes went to the window. “I should get started on the garden--,”

“Nice try,” Silas answered.

“We… we, uh...” He waved his hands, flustered; if Wing were there, he'd know exactly what he was trying to say, and hated that he wasn't, despite how illogical it was.

Goryn, however, leaned back, raising her eyebrows. “You kissed.”

Asgore slammed his head onto the table, groaning. “I know, I’m a blithering whelp, I didn't mean to, it wasn't just me, but I'm not blaming her!” His head jerked up by the end of the sentence, looking panicked.

“She kissed you,” Goryn translated, her face weirdly blank.

It made Asgore uncomfortable. “Only because I froze,” he admitted weakly, burying his head back into his arms.

Above him, Goryn smiled at her husband, but Silas looked worried, still. She blinked, tilting her head, and he bit his lip, shaking his head. She nodded, and he hesitated, then nodded, looking away. Her smile returned.

Then, Asgore felt Goryn touch the top of his head, between his horns. He inhaled shakily, then said, his voice so soft that only people with their hearing would ever hear it, “I'm in love with her.”

“We know,” Goryn replied softly, her voice so gentle that he looked up, again. She was still smiling, but her eyes were wavering. “And she's honestly a wonderful person. The fact that she cares about your education...” She closed her eyes for a moment. “That meant a lot, Gorey.”

“She's royalty,” Silas suddenly snapped, startling both mother and son. They looked at him, shocked by his angry expression. “She's beyond anything we could ever be. We're her customers, Asgore. Her _customers._ Nothing more, and likely less.”

Asgore looked down, his eyes burning for a moment, hurt by this.

For a horrible moment, he believed it. He lowered his head and bit his lip, genuinely close to tears.

Because he knew, in a way, Silas was absolutely right: they were known only as suppliers of tea and beautiful topiaries to the Royal family. That was it.

But then, he remembered.

Those bright red eyes, glinting in the waning moonlight, her smile catlike as she grabbed him for that first kiss...

_No. Maybe before, but not now. She has faces to our names, voices and personalities. She's not just our customer, anymore._

_She stopped being that when she jumped so sweetly into those leaves..._

“Ah, hell,” Silas growled, suddenly. “You're serious.”

Asgore nodded, covering his face. He was crying, now. He couldn't help it.

This time, both of his parents touched his shoulders, before moving closer and hugging him on both sides.

“I'm sorry,” Asgore blurted out. “I really am. I... I’m just as... just as surprised as you...”

For a long time, no one said a word. Asgore simply cried in the arms of his parents, his whole being tormented by confusion and deep, visceral yearning.

Then, Asgore felt his hand held, pulled away, and curled around a cup. He looked up and saw it was of tea – orange pekoe, his favourite – and he lowered his head and grabbed his father's hand between his tight.

Nothing else needed to be said.

Well, to them, in any rate.

* * *

Asgore sighed, leaning against the rake he held. “You're signing too darned fast!” he snapped.

Wing stopped, scowling at him, and he raised an eyebrow; it was true, and that was why Wing was even mad to begin with.

Wing was a tall, gangly fellow, born mute but not deaf, and he spoke primarily in sign language, switching to magic that he could use to write in the air if the person he spoke to didn't know it. He was smart, the smartest person Asgore knew, but since he also came from a poor family, his education was mostly self-taught. Despite it, he was still very intelligent, and Asgore hated that it was wasted on yardwork.

 _Wag could be so much more,_ he thought. They both knew it, too. But there was nothing to do: without money or access to education, Wing would never be the doctor he wanted to be.

“I said,” Wing was signing now, still scowling, “Why are you hungover, and why didn't you invite me, or tell me about it?!”

Asgore sighed, rubbing his forehead. “How, Wag?” he growled.

“I know you,” was Wing's jerky answer, his dark eyes flashing.

Asgore smiled at that, feeling a sudden wave of affection for him. “Yeah,” he agreed. “You do. And you're right; I'm hungover.”

Wing threw his hands up and rolled his eyes, making an exasperated sound. Asgore couldn't help it; he laughed. Wing was adorable when flustered by Asgore's obtuseness.

“Why?!” Wing signed four times, moving closer to him each time.

Asgore then blushed, and Wing stopped, surprised, his mouth opening a little.

“Uh,” Asgore stammered. “Well...”

“Did you get laid?!”

Asgore dropped his rake and grabbed Wing's hands, lowering them in embarrassment, just as Wing burst into silent laughter.

“You knob,” Asgore grumbled, picking up his rake and threatening to smack Wing with it – causing even more silent laughter.

“So what happened, then?” Wing signed, before he grabbed the bag at his feet and held it out.

Asgore shoved a rakeful of leaves into it. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“So you _did_ get laid!”

“Wag!” Asgore snarled, finally hitting his knee with the rake. Wing laughed so hard he had to lean on Asgore, and he sighed but allowed it.

Then, Asgore muttered, “Wag, have you ever met the Princess?”

Wing blinked, then shook his head.

“I did, yesterday,” Asgore went on, his face burning. “We went drinking.”

Wing dropped the bag and tapped on Asgore's arm, hard. He looked up, and Wing said, “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Nope,” Asgore answered, staring right into his eyes. “I ran into her on the way back to the schoolgrounds, and, uh, we talked, and she invited me to dinner. And mead.”

Wing stared at him, speechless, now.

“There's more,” Asgore sighed.

Wing grabbed his hand and tugged on it, and they sat down in the pile of leaves they were supposed to be cleaning.

“Go,” he then signed eagerly, looking excited, now.

Asgore told him everything. How could he not? Despite not being in love with Wing anymore, he still held deep, loving affection for him, and would always trust him and be honest with him. This was no exception, despite his hesitation.

When he was finished, Wing was beaming at him, looking so happy that it shocked him.

“You're happy,” Wing explained. “I like seeing it. Especially since...” His hands lowered, and he looked embarrassed.

Asgore took one of his hands and squeezed it briefly. “I've never held anything against you for that,” he admitted. “And I never, ever will, Wag.”

Wing smiled at him, then, the beaming look back, and he nodded.

Then, his smile turned devious. “So you _are_ gonna get laid, then?”

For which he was tackled into the leaves and buried in them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dammit, Toriel, look what you did. You upped the rating of this story to Explicit. Are you proud of yourself?!
> 
> And yes, before you ask for clarification: Toriel's father is indeed AFAB.

**Chapter Seven**

Toriel awoke slowly. She wasn't hungover, but she was tired and a little slow from how heavy her sleep had been – and what she had dreamt about. She stirred, her hands moving over her body for a moment, before she stopped them, her face flushing.

It all came rushing back, and she shivered, hugging herself and pulling the blankets over her closer. She kept her eyes closed, and she smiled. If she thought long enough, she could still taste Asgore's lips, feel his erection against her, hear his soft, needy cries...

 _“Oh,”_ she whispered, squirming a little, her hands moving over her body, again, and lingering. She suddenly wished he was right beside her, having just spent the night, and was waking alongside her, and not _just_ his mind...

She inhaled shakily, surprised by how easy it was to imagine him naked and with her. She'd only felt that way once – with one of the girls she'd made out with, and had hoped was possibly a match for her. But that time, she'd started to touch herself – only to stop, her desire snuffing out. It was then that she knew it wasn't to be, and she'd broken up with her that same day. For Toriel, physical desire was just as important as mental and emotional. 

But this time, her hands didn't hesitate. One hiked her nightgown up around her hips and plunged beneath her underpants, the other going to her face, her fingertips trailing over her lips and trying to pretend they were not her fingers, but Asgore's lips.

Immediately, she gasped: her whole body went hot, and she felt a thrill overcome her belly and between her legs. She kept her eyes closed, turning to lie on her back, and she parted her legs and slipped her fingers between the soft fur to the folds of her cunt – and found herself already so wet that she blinked in surprise - then smiled. 

“Asgore,” she whispered, closing her eyes again, and immediately, she saw his face, gazing into hers, his cheeks red and his mismatched eyes switching colours. She pulled her nightgown off hurriedly, her underwear following, and when she settled again, she gasped softly with a smile; she easily could see him naked, now, too. 

It wasn't _that_ surprising. Asgore wore clothes that were loose, but not enough to obscure the shape of his body. He was a large young man, tall as well as bulky, chubby as well as muscular, and she squirmed again, wondering how such a body would feel atop her own... _within_ her own...

Her hand was already moving over her clit, so fast that she moaned, covering her mouth lest she wake the staff. She'd never been caught masturbating before, and while she knew the staff couldn't care less if she was caught, she didn't want to be interrupted.

She raised her legs and parted them more, digging her heels into the bed, and she slipped two fingers within herself, gasping in shock. She hadn't tried that in several years, too intent on imagining sex with a woman (or a man who was misgendered as a woman, like her father had been) to do so, usually focusing primarily on her clit. But for Asgore, since she knew damn well that he had a cock, she wanted to try to simulate the feel of it as best as possible.

 _Asgore is pretty big,_ she thought, her fingers stilling within herself for a moment. _So, then, his cock must be, too..._

With that, she grinned and slipped another finger in, and she arched back with another gasp, the feel of it so incredible that she almost came just from that alone. She laughed softly, still covering her mouth, before her mind was suddenly filled with him, again, and her laughter shifted to soft cries as her fingers began to move.

It was different. If she arched up enough and hooked her fingers just right, she felt a thrill of deep, rich pleasure begin to build, and she was no longer smiling, shocked. She was completely hypnotised, now, and she loved it.

She imagined the sounds he would make as he pushed into her, touched her breasts, kissed the breath from her lips...

She focused on how it would feel for that cock to pump in and out of herself, and moved her fingers in that same way, trying to imagine him pressing down on her as he did, how amazing it would feel...

Most of all, she pictured what it would be like to wake up to this, more than once, and knowing it would happen again and again _and again..._

 _“A-ahh!”_ she suddenly cried, before her hand dropped from her mouth and dug into the bed beneath her, her whole body undulating with the strokes of her fingers and slick with sweat. She gritted her teeth, her breaths catching...

She imagined him coming, hard, within her, pushing her down harder and holding her close to him, like life itself, crying out her name in a soft, strangled way that she felt suited him best, and...

 _She_ cried out, nonsense at first, before she starting gasping out Asgore's name, imagining the way his face looked as he came, wondering if he would go red, or keep his eyes open, or be loud as he emptied himself deep within her eager body...

 _“Ah-ahh_...! As... _Asgore_...!” she growled out, trying to keep quiet. But it was impossible, even as she grew frantic, even as she pleasured herself harder and faster...

“Fuck!” she cried, her head tilting back against her pillow _. “Asgore_...! Fuck... _fuck me...!”_

She'd barely finished that small sentence before she came, the force of her orgasm so intense and shocking that she was breathless, voiceless, _senseless_...

She dropped, blacking out immediately, going limp and heavy beneath the blankets as she gasped desperately for breath, her whole body engulfed in ecstasy.

Toriel didn't know how long she was blacked out for. All she knew was one thing, and one thing alone.

She _needed_ to have sex with Asgore. She needed to. She wanted to. She _had_ to.

Because in that moment, she knew, without a doubt.

She was his, and she was going to marry him. The only thing that would stop her would be Asgore, himself, and no other.

Toriel dozed for a half-hour, her hands limp at her sides and her body trembling as it calmed down. She had no idea, but she was grinning, even in sleep.

* * *

When she went downstairs for breakfast, Toriel was still shaky, and her heart was still full.

She walked in a daze, shocked by the entire morning.

It wasn't that she'd masturbated, or that she had thinking about a monster she'd only known for a day. Rather, it was because of the fact that she knew, despite that, she was set.

She had chosen. She had her mate.

And she never knew that was even possible until now.

When she sat down with her parents, they immediately were fixated on her. They could easily see the change in her, and it was one they never expected to see: their Tori was in love.

She stared off into space, smiling brightly, her fork slowly making a mess of her food that she tried to remember to eat. Occasionally, her eyes would close, and she would bit down on her lip, her cheeks reddening.

Alexandrine glanced at Edgar, who raised an eyebrow in return. She smiled, and he blinked – then smiled, too, his eyes becoming misty.

“Who?” he mouthed silently to her.

His wife smiled, and turned to their daughter. “Tori, dear,” she called, startling the poor princess into dropping her fork and jumping in her seat, her crown tilting a little upon her brow. “What's on your mind?”

Toriel spoke before she even remembered to think, first, and blurted out, “Asgore.”

Edgar blinked, the name unfamiliar to him, but Alexandrine nodded, her hands trembling a little. Neither had seen their stubborn, wild daughter so skittish and lovesick before, and it was endearing to them both.

“Do you have plans to see him, today?” her mother asked.

Edgar blinked again, then looked a little disappointed; he really _had_ wanted Toriel to marry a woman. But then again, seeing her like this, even if from a man, was still really nice, and he relaxed a little.

Toriel stared at her. “M-m-may I?”

Edgar stared at her in return. He had never, ever heard his daughter stammer, before. He turned to Alexandrine, and she beamed at him, nodding again. His eyes grew misty again, and he looked away for a moment.

“Of course you may,” the Queen replied kindly. “If he isn't working.”

Toriel started at that. “Mother,” she said quickly, “I need to talk to the Chambers.”

Both of her parents were thrown, now. “Why?” Edgar asked.

“Be-because-because I-I…” Toriel went scarlet, shutting up when she realised she was stuttering. “Education,” she went on. “Our education system is unfair to the poor.”

“You know that the humans hold the most power in that regard,” he answered. “They were the ones to choose the cut-off age, not us.”

“I know, and it's stupid,” she snapped. “It's the second-stupidest rule we ever let them get away with, and I want to fix it.” 

“Well, there's a meeting tomorrow, and you're welcome to join, always.” Alexandrine murmured. She was stunned, now, especially when her daughter lit up and nodded. 

Toriel had shown keen talent with politics, but usually preferred to play it as a game, rather than make a change. This was the first time she ever expressed an interest in doing so.

They had no idea, then, but that interest would be the first of many factors that would bring their world tumbling underground.

And yet, even decades later, despite it all, Toriel never regretted it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Eight**

Asgore and Wing sat underneath the biggest tree they could find on the lot, exhausted. For a moment, they just sat there, leaning against the ancient oak, and allowed the chilly air to cool them off.

Wing tapped Asgore, whose eyes were closed, and he blinked awake. “Yeah?”

“Food?” Wing signed in reply, barely able to before his hands dropped into his lap.

Asgore groaned in dismay. “In the darned shed.”

Wing glowered at him. “You...” he began, before he waved his hands idly, vaguely signing “fuckass” before his hands dropped again.

Asgore glowered in return, not appreciating that. “You could've reminded me.”

“You... ass,” was Wing's eloquent reply.

Then, out of nowhere, they heard someone shouting for Asgore. The two looked up – and Asgore yelped, scrambling to his feet so fast that Wing was impressed.

But Asgore couldn't help it: he recognised that voice, and his heart lifted him to his feet and toward it without a second breath. He was grinning, his eyes stinging, and he barely caught her gaze before he caught _her_.

Toriel. It was Toriel.

Somehow, she was here at work – and running for him, and right into his arms. He didn't know what had come over him – just that he heard her, and wanted to find her, and hold her close.

And the best part was that she clearly had the same thought.

They embraced, laughing softly, for a sweet moment just enjoying each other's touch. It was a strange way to greet someone, especially given how long they knew each other.

But then again, it still felt _right._ A feeling that only solidified once they were holding each other close.

“Hello, Gorey,” Toriel murmured softly, one hand reaching up and gently stroking his ear.

“Howdy, Tori,” he whispered back, his eyes closing in pure bliss the moment she touched him, and he rested his forehead to hers, sighing deeply.

“Princess Toriel, _please?”_

Toriel growled, “He's _Asgore._ He's on the list. Confirm it, then back off and do your _real_ job.”

Asgore looked up and found two large guards on each side of him, and he froze in sudden fear, worried that if he even blinked, he'd get skewered.

But when Toriel said his name, the guards nodded and bowed, then backed off, clearly proving her right.

She grinned up at him, looking smug. He blushed, but smiled back. He was speechless, again, especially when she resumed stroking his ear. His eyes fluttered closed and he lowered his head, his smile turning dopey.

“Are you alone?” she suddenly asked him, her voice soft and low. He shivered, his arms suddenly going around her, and she inhaled sharply – but didn't push him away. Instead, she relaxed, and slipped her other arm around his shoulders.

“Yes,” he said, actually forgetting that he wasn't in this pure haze of want. He raised his head, and she smiled up at him, her eyes gleaming in the noonlight.

“Kiss me,” she replied, cupping his face between her hands.

He smiled. “Is that a command?” he wondered.

She grinned, her eyes narrowing. “We'll see,” she warned, before she lunged forward and kissed him. He returned it, holding her tighter and backing up, looking for the closest tree. His back hit a small one, but it was big enough to support him, and immediately, Toriel pressed against him, shifting against him in a way that made him gasp...

He suddenly felt a smack upside the head.

Both he and Toriel stumbled, shocked, and found Wing glaring at them both, his hand up. He'd clearly used his magic to get Asgore's attention.

Asgore went scarlet, feeling terrible in that moment. He'd actually forgotten he was not only there, but waiting for him and _still_   _hungry_.

 _“Fuckass!”_ Wing signed hotly, and he sighed and nodded, leaning back against the tree.

Toriel pulled away from him, and he waited for the inevitable question.

Instead, to both of their shock, she signed back, “Perhaps, if we'd been left alone!”

Asgore suddenly burst into laughter, leaning forward, his hands on his knees. Of course she would know sign language; she was the Princess.

Plus, she was funny. _Really_ funny.

Even Wing snorted, and he lowered his hands for a moment in accepted defeat. Toriel relaxed, placing her hands on her hips, and it was then that Wing saw her crown – and jolted, scrambling to bow to her.

“Gorey,” she sighed.

Asgore blinked, surprised for two reasons. The first was that she used his nickname in a casual way. The second was that, despite it being _all_ she said, he understood what she _didn't_ say with it.

And she had assumed he would, too.

 _That's interesting_.

“Wag,” Asgore said, walking over to him and touching his shoulder with a smile. “This is Toriel. I told you about her, remember?”

When he looked back at her, she was blushing, her face bright. He blinked, blushing a little, too, and wondered what she was so pleased about.

“Tori, this is Wing Din Gaster,” Asgore said, smiling. “I told you about him, too.”

“Oh, yes!” she agreed, signing it, too; clearly, she had assumed Wing was deaf. “Pleased to meet you.”

“It's okay; I can hear you,” Wing replied, smiling, looking pleased, now, too.

Toriel nodded, then glanced at Asgore, raising an eyebrow. "Alone?"

“Uh,” Asgore stammered. “I... I was kinda... I was sorta...”

Wing smirked. “The blood from his brain was elsewhere,” he supplied helpfully.

Asgore smacked his hands with a glare, and both Wing and Toriel laughed. Asgore turned away, embarrassed, but he felt Toriel touch his shoulder, and she leaned close to him, grabbing all of his attention.

“Me, too,” she whispered, soft enough so that only he heard _. “All day.”_

Asgore gaped at her, his brain completely bloodless, now, and she smiled at him coyly, her eyes glinting again.

Before he could say or do anything, Toriel turned back to Wing and said, “I came here to talk to you, Gorey, as well as feed you.”

“Food!” Wing signed happily. “Yes, please!”

“How did you know we forgot the food?” he wondered.

“You did?” She blinked. “I was just going to feed you, anyway, whether you had food already or not. Don't you like pie?”

She was teasing him, and he knew it – and _loved_ it.

Asgore swallowed hard, and held out his hand. She looked at it, then smiled and took it without hesitation.

Wing tapped his shoulder, but before he could ask, Asgore smiled and threw his other arm over his shoulders. “Yes, of course,” he said, and Wing smiled gratefully.

Lunch, needless to say, would be very interesting, indeed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter** **Nine**

There were many things that made this lunch worth it for Toriel. The first was actually because of Wing.

 _“Holy majestic royal shit,”_ he signed slowly, his face both delighted and awed.

Beside him, Asgore was beaming, first at what was before them – but then, simply at Toriel – which was the second thing.

Before them was a fold-out table laden with so much food that there was no way all three of them could possibly eat it all, least of all in this one sitting, but that didn't stop the two very hungry landscapers from wanting to try.

And Toriel was quite happy to let them try. She waved them over, glad she'd dismissed the wait staff that her mother had tried to foist on her. The two immediately sat down at the table, delighting her further; she loved that they didn't hesitate.

But they did stop before they took any food, glancing up instead to look at Toriel – their Princess.

That annoyed her. She sat down at the table, slapped her hands down, and snapped, “Eat, you foolish _whelps!”_

Asgore went scarlet, grabbing a sandwich and pulling it to him quickly, and Wing burst into silent laughter. Toriel smiled, too, as honestly, Asgore was just adorable – and was glad Wing knew it, too.

“Thank you,” she chirped the second Asgore took a bite, and again Wing hunched over, wheezing.

“You really brought this much food for only _two_ people?” Asgore asked her, his voice soft.

“Of course,” she agreed, lowering her voice so that Wing would miss it (she hoped). She smiled coyly. “I planned to stay a while, and figured I’d need a great deal of calories to replace lost ones... ones lost quite _enthusiastically_ , I'd imagined...”

Asgore stared at her, speechless, his face going bright red. He stuffed his face with more sandwich, clearly about to say something but deciding not to, and Toriel smiled, her heart fluttering in happiness.

Oh, she wanted him. To question that was a waste of time.

But she also knew that the best people were the ones you waited for.

She was partially right – and only found out hours later.

In the meantime, she focused on making sure the two were properly fed and happy.

Asgore was still blushing when he said, his words muffled, “Thish ish sho good!”

Toriel beamed happily, but also with a bit of shyness. She wasn't going to mention it, but now she felt she had no choice.

“I made it.”

She got Wing's attention with that, too, and she sat up taller with both pride and indignation. “What? A Princess cannot know how to cook?”

“May I talk while I eat?” Wing replied, making her suddenly laugh and nod. “It's just that, well, don't you have staff for that?”

“Yes,” Toriel agreed. “They taught me.”

Asgore nodded; this clearly made sense to him completely.

But Wing looked confused, and Toriel glanced at him, taking a sandwich for herself. “What?” she pressed.

“I spend too much time with humans,” he admitted, his hands a little limp as he spoke. “I've come to view their ways as the default.”

“Because that's what they _want_ us to do,” Asgore snorted into his water, his voice low and his smile cynical. “They want us to be _humans_ , not _monsters.”_

Toriel frowned, staying silent during this, her mind racing. She suddenly realised just how badly out of touch she'd been with the human, instead opting to spend her time in the company of her own people. She realised, too, that she'd done it on purpose, because they few times she'd spent a great deal of time with humans, she always ended up angry, their ways stupid to her.

It was a mindset that, despite being aware of, she would never be able to change – until decades later, when she least expected it to.

But now, she was troubled. Was she racist for being so wary? Or was she responding to racism in kind? And either way, was that the right approach?

“They're not _all_ bad,” Wing signed weakly, before sighing and letting it drop - and letting his hands drop along with it. 

“You _just_ became bemused when Tori expressed her talent for cooking,” Asgore answered easily.

Wing nodded glumly, but stayed quiet for the rest of his meal.

“I'm ignorant,” Toriel admitted softly. “How do _human_ princesses cook?”

Asgore smiled at her, and she swallowed, the gesture so different than the wry, bitter version he'd made moments ago.

“They _don't,”_ he replied between bites. “They have the staff do everything for them. _Everything_. Name it.”

Toriel was shocked, but to hide it, she decided to try and be shocking. “Masturbation?” she wondered, unable to keep her own morning from her mind when she did.

Asgore snorted and burst into laughter, while Wing rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“It wouldn't surprise me,” Asgore said when he could.

“They truly do nothing?” she repeated, now, her mirth gone. “Nothing for themselves?”

“Nothing practical,” Asgore agreed. “Why else do they always hire monsters to work for them, too? They don't just torture their own, but us, too.”

Toriel looked down at her hands, deeply troubled, now. She bit her lip, feeling shame slip through her, and she didn't like it. At all.

_It has to change._

She looked back up, her eyes meeting Asgore's – and his eyes lit up and sparked, swapping colours as she watched, and her heart bloomed.

 _And it can change so much easier and better with him at my side,_ she realised. _He knows all that I do not, because he is there, right there, in the midst of it all. He can be where I cannot be, and I, him. And together..._

_But meanwhile, he does this all while I get drunk, dance on tables, and get to learn anything I want without having to work for a cent._

Maybe she wasn't all that different from a human princess, after all...

“Asgore,” she said, when she could. “Wing. Thank you.”

Wing stared at her, and Asgore blushed. “Why?” Asgore wondered.

“Because the two of you have taught me in mere days what my tutors have not in seventeen years.”

Wing blushed, looking away, but Asgore swallowed, blinking hard. She looked at him closer, and noticed he looked almost grateful, as if by listening to him, she'd done him a huge favour.

That shamed her, too.

“Please, eat,” she insisted, waving her hand.

Wing, however, shook his head. “I have to go, sadly,” he signed carefully.

Asgore stared at him, his eyes narrowed.

“You do? This early?” she wondered, not buying it. “Why?”

“I must get back to work,” was the reply. “Thank you for the meal, Princess.”

And before she could remind him not to call her that, he got up and walked away, vanishing the moment he was out of their sight.

“Gorey,” she whispered. “Did I offend him?”

“No,” Asgore admitted, and she knew he was being honest. “Reality did.”

She wouldn't truly comprehend that until too late.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Ten**

“I am... such a fool...”

Asgore looked up, startled, but Toriel wasn't looking at him. She was looking at her hands, kept loose in her hands, and she smiled sadly – and with self-disgust.

“I admit to knowing you only as well as you let me, Tori, but...” Asgore smiled. “A fool, you are not.”

“I am, don't coddle me,” she snapped, resting her chin on one of her hands, now, both elbows on the table; her other hand toyed with a madeleine. “I’m truly as they say: a spoilt little rich girl.”

Asgore sighed. He had to admit that, for a monarch, while he expected no less thanks to his own exposure from the humans, other months did think of her that way, and it was useless to lie to her.

It was nerve-wracking to tell the truth, but far worse to lie, he found. When making the decision, it was easy.

“Okay,” he said softly, finally, and she looked up slowly, her fangs bared in her frustration. “Some – _some!_ – people do think you're spoilt. It's true.”

She did something curious, then; instead of getting angry like he'd expected, her eyes narrowed, and she nodded. “Go on,” she insisted.

“I don't think of you that way, now,” he rambled, his own hands fussing with his ears a bit. “But... I did. I can't lie about that.”

Toriel's eyes closed briefly, but she nodded again. When their eyes met, hers sparked. “What changed, Asgore?”

“I got to know you,” he admitted.

That was also the truth. He felt a little silly, remembering how they met for a moment, before he jolted and focused.

“One of the first things you said to me was about how unfair and unequal things have become,” he continued. “You don't do that kind of thing if you're completely spoilt, Toriel.”

Toriel stared at him, her expression oddly blank, so he went on, babbling, now.

“I mean, I won't lie,” he repeated, “I thought you only cared about me because I was a Boss Monster, and then I thought the same about your interest in Wag, since he is too, and we're not as... as common... as we used to be, so I thought... yeah...” His ears were now a mess, so his hands desperately sought something else to fuss with. “But it's _thought_ , not _think_ , Toriel, I don't--,”

He froze. She'd taken his hand into hers, and held it. He looked up quickly, and jolted: she was smiling at him, but with teary eyes.

And for the first time, like he only usually would either alone or in his head, Asgore swore in front of Toriel at the sight of those tears.

“Shit,” he whispered, his voice cracking. He panicked; he couldn't help it. He'd made her cry, when all he'd wanted was to be honest, and instead he'd made a biggest _asshole_ of himself...

He grabbed a clean, cloth napkin and held it up between them, almost going so far as to bring it to her face, but he froze, again, his panic paralysing him.

All he'd wanted to do was make her smile. Ever. And while she _was_ , she was also crying. And it wasn't worth it.

 _The truth isn't worth it,_ he decided angrily.

Well, until...

“Gorey,” she murmured, pulling his hand – his empty one – to her cheek and curving it around her damp face. “I thank you.” Her eyes closed when his hand instinctively pressed closer.

And suddenly, Asgore had no blood in his brain.

“Wh-why?!” he demanded. “You're crying!” And he used his thumb to try and brush those tears away, bringing up his other hand at last and using the napkin, too.

Toriel's eyes closed, and she bit her lip, lowering her head. “I know,” she agreed. “Because you're one of the few people left willing to tell me when I’m wrong – but also when I'm right...”

Asgore nodded. “Of course,” he stammered, focusing of cleaning her face instead of the actual details of her face, still trying to get his blood back. “You... you're...” He felt himself blush deeply. “We're friends, aren't we?” he said, instead, suddenly unsure.

Toriel was quiet for a moment, and he shut his eyes, starting to pull his hands away. Then, she grabbed his bare hand between hers, again, and he looked up.

She stared back, her eyes bright and her face still red and wet, but her smile no less real and as bright as her eyes.

The look had him trembling. He'd never seen anyone look like that while looking at him, and he knew it; he'd seen others look at anyone but him, and he'd only looked that way for Wag.

Now, he realised it was likely that he looked identical to how he looked when he'd fallen for Wag. Probably worse...

“Yes, Gorey,” she whispered, so sudden that he jumped, again. “We are most certainly friends.”

And with that, she closed her eyes and nuzzled his palm with her cheek, her smile widening, and Asgore felt perilously close to fainting, again.

“Tori...” he croaked out, swallowing hard. “I...”

Toriel's eyes opened, their colour blazing. “You...?”

“I want to kiss you,” he admitted weakly, feeling his face burn.

“That would make us _more_ than friends, my dear Gorey,” she replied coyly, nuzzling his hand again.

“I want that,” he whispered. “Golly, I want that so darned much, Tori...”

“Me, too...”

Asgore's head shot up, shocked, and she nodded, her eyes glinting. “Yes,” she continued. “Asgore, since I met you, since I saw your eyes change colours simple by _looking_ at me...”

And to his utmost shock, she shivered, closing her eyes again and smiling.

“Since you kissed me, Gorey... I realised something...”

His breath grew short as his heartrate increased, unable to look away from her, now.

“Gorey, I want to court you.”

Asgore stopped breathing. But she wasn't done.

“I want to court you, I want to be intimate with you, and... and I want to... I want you to be...” Her voice broke, and her smile faded, lowering her head but keeping Asgore's hand in place.

“My mate,” she concluded, her voice barely a whisper.

Asgore, sadly, had not quite recovered from losing his breath, and the moment he finally realised what she said – and what it meant – he still forgot.

And thus fainted again.

Before he did, he heard her hiss out, “Dammit. But still _so_ _cute_...”

Thus he welcomed the darkness with a smile.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Eleven**

Toriel couldn't stop smiling, and often giggled, despite it all.

She hadn't been fast enough to catch Asgore before he fell to the ground, but she was able to grab him and pull him over to a softer, more secluded patch, one more comfortable (and luckily one not too far away, either, as Asgore was _not_ a light young man...).

She found it kind of... sweet, really. As she draped a blanket over him, she couldn't help but laugh softly at how silly he was, how a simple question – albeit a serious one – made him puddle.

She liked it. She liked that he care that much about her. And she liked that, despite clearly being ass-over-teakettle for her, he still treated her with respect and kindness.

But he also treated her as a friend, and that was immensely valuable. Though clearly he was still adjusting, he was trying to push aside those childhood lessons of royalty being untouchable. She wanted to blame the humans, but knew it was foolish; it was just his nature, really.

One she found herself adoring, the more she discovered.

Once she was certain he was comfortable, she got up and grabbed a couple of sandwiches and two mugs of tea, then went back and set them down beside them both.

For a moment, she did nothing but sip her tea, holding her mug with both hands, her eyes locked on Asgore.

But soon, she set the tea aside, and leaned closer. She smiled; he seemed actually more sheep than goat this close up, and she liked that, too. He was like her, a mix of a few things that somehow melded into something else, unique and their own, and she loved seeing it.

 _His hair is blond_ , she mused idly, liking how the sun seemed to catch it purposefully and make it shimmer. So cliché, those thoughts, but knowing that didn't stop them.

She touched the hair on his forehead gently, brushing it back and just threading it between her fingers, enjoying the sensual feel of how soft it was. It was a little dry, true, and the ends were split and frizzy, but it suited him well.

She wondered what he would look like with facial hair, and her fingers slid down and traced around his mouth, her eyes wavering. _Would it be blond, too? Or darker?_

Without thinking, Toriel's fingers went over his lips, and she went pink, her body shifting a little. They were as soft as she remembered, only not as soft as they would be against her own, like that had been mere hours before...

Asgore stirred at that, and she jumped and pulled her hand away, embarrassed. His eyes flickered open, and she was surprised to see them both blue. They were unfocused for a moment, until they moved up to her face.

They not only focused, then, but lit up – and blazed. And his smile followed, almost putting the light in his eyes to shame.

“Tori...” he whispered. “Am I dead?”

“I certainly hope not, because that would mean I am, too,” she replied dryly, smiling.

“That's the _last_ thing I _ever_ want,” he agreed. He moved, pulling his hand free and reaching up, but he stopped, blushed, and stared at her, his smiling becoming crooked. “I fainted,” he concluded.

“You did,” she agreed, reaching down and tucking a strand of his hair behind his horn, still smiling.

He froze, swallowing hard, and his eyes never left hers. His hand, still held up, started shaking, and she took hold of it and placed it upon her cheek, closing her eyes and sighing deeply. It felt so nice there, so perfect, and she felt silly, again. She even wagged her tail – but hoped Asgore would miss that part, as it was rather childish.

“Tori?” she heard him repeat, his voice soft and thick. She nodded, keeping her eyes closed and his hand in place. “Why...?”

“Why, what, Gorey?” she wondered.

“Why... do you...?” He coughed. “Why do you... want to court me...?”

“I like you,” she replied, though it wasn't completely true; she didn't _just_ like him. So she added, “I like you a _great_ deal. I thought we both knew this already?”

Her eyes opened slowly and met his, her smile widening, and she moved his hand to kiss his palm – and he closed his eyes and leaned back, breathing out shakily.

“Don't faint, please,” she murmured. “I prefer you awake. Very much.”

“But...” Asgore inhaled, his breath catching, as at that moment, Toriel decided to touch her hand to his cheek. To her delight, it warmed up right away, and she smiled.

“Asgore,” she whispered, leaning down and pressing her forehead to his. His eyes opened, meeting hers, and they both blinked.

And finally, Asgore's hand went beneath her ear, and he smiled, his eyes flashing brighter blue. She felt him pull on her gently, and she relaxed, letting him lead her lips down to his.

They kissed, and the moment they did, they both relaxed, as if finally able to abandon all pretence and finally just be themselves. It felt that way for Toriel, at least.

That kiss was their best, yet, and it deepened slowly, gradually, instead of flashing so fast and ending so suddenly that there was no chance to enjoy it. They could take their time, and in doing so, get to know each other even better.

Toriel pressed down, relaxing completely against him, chest-to-chest, her hands going up and into his hair, sighing deeply against his lips from how nice that felt. In turn, Asgore sighed, too, deeper, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down closer.

She purred softly; she liked that. She liked that he was shy, but still sure. Gentle, but still firm. She curled closer, moving one hand down from his hair and slowly down his face and neck, while at the same time, she licked his lips apart and slipped her tongue between them.

His reaction was so perfect. He grabbed hold of her tighter, his fingers digging into her back, and he moaned softly, arching up against her and touching his tongue to hers.

That was it.

“Gorey,” she whispered, after several long moments of blissful kissing. By then, her hand had reached his hip, and it lingered, there. “Make love with me...?"

Asgore's eyes opened in shock, both of them orange. “Wh-what?” he gasped out. “Here? Right now?”

Toriel grinned at him, slid her hand to the side, and pressed it between his legs, her fingers tracing the shape of his cock through his loose-fitting work pants, and raised her eyebrows, not saying a word.

Asgore dropped back again, with another strained groan, but made sure she fell him; she did, landing against his chest with a soft squeak, and it jolted her hand, making him gasp into her shoulder – and her, laugh.

“I want more of those sounds,” she admitted against his lips, making sure she kept her hand close – and moving. “I want more of _you_...”

 _“Yes,”_ he breathed out, his hands going up and cupping around her cheeks, making her smile and feel a stab of deep affection strike her heart. “Toriel, there is nothing I want more...”

She moved her hand away – and slipped herself atop him, wrapping her legs around his waist. His hands went to her hips almost immediately, and she grinned, closing her eyes.

_This feels amazing..._

She pressed down against him and kissed him again, and with that kiss...

_And with one kiss..._

She was his. For life.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Twelve**

Asgore was dead. There was no way he wasn't. He was in heaven and that was it. He fainted and died. There was no other explanation.

_Well... perhaps..._

Toriel was definitely real, definitely alive, and definitely on top of him and kissing him into oblivion.

And he _loved_ it.

 _No... I love_ her...

He held onto her hips tight, surprised by how soft they were, how nice they were to just... hold. He closed his eyes and shifted slightly against her, the gentle friction making him grunt softly.

But to his delight, she did, too, pulling away from his lips to gasp in surprise, her face going red.

“Oh,” she whispered, her eyes closed and her eyebrows up, and she grinned. “That's quite nice.”

“I’ll say,” he agreed.

She looked down at him, her smile curving into something devious, and he barely had a second before she suddenly shifted down and grinded against him, much closer than he had. Again, they both shared a sound of pleasure, one that had them kissing, again – and one that had Asgore's heart suddenly start racing.

Toriel had reached down and grabbed the hem of his shirt, tugging it up hard and quickly – too quickly, as she smacked him on the chin with her forearm, and they broke apart.

“Shit,” she whispered, freezing in place, her eyes wide. “I'm sorry, are you alright?”

Asgore blinked hard, a little dazed, it was true; she was quite strong, strong enough that an accidental hit had almost sent him reeling. But he nodded, anyway, feeling himself slowly starting to lose his brain, and he smiled at her, hoping it was a gesture that made him look charming.

Toriel smirked, proving him wrong, and tugged gently on his shirt, sitting up a little. He did, too, and together, they tossed his shirt off and over his head, before Toriel suddenly pinned him down again and kissed him.

Then, her hands moved down, and Asgore lost his mind at last. Because she slid her palms over his chest, from the middle outward, and both had landed just over his nipples. The feel of that surprised him, and he exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, touching Toriel's cheek and sliding his tongue along hers. She purred softly, one hand arching a little, before her fingertips took its place. Asgore grunted, his arms going around her waist, again, and against his lips, she laughed softly.

“Good?” she wondered between kisses, her touches feather-light and sending shivers of pleasure through Asgore.

“Yes,” he agreed, nodding to emphasise it, leaning back down and resting his head on the ground, again, feeling the comforting coolness of fall leaves tickle his neck. “ _Golly_ , yes...”

Toriel followed him, shifting her hips again, and his fingers dug into her hips again. He felt her take hold of one and pull it away, and before he even managed to focus on her above him, she curved it around her own breast, her red eyes glittering the moment he pressed it close.

Asgore was speechless, now. This was nothing like anything he'd even expected. No, this was so _much_ _better_ , _felt_ so much better, and he didn't care if he was a fool; he was _her_ fool, and happy to be it.

Her breast was soft, generous, but not too much; his hand seemed to curve around it almost perfectly.

Toriel seemed to think likewise. “Your hands could replace my underclothes,” she whispered, pulling his other hand up to cover her other breast. “They're perfect...”

The image of that was suddenly rather distracting, and he swallowed hard, feeling dizzy; he knew he was as hard as a rock, now, and was very worried he wouldn't even make it past nudity before he lost control.

Especially since Toriel was so... _beautiful_ , really. It wasn't just her body – though truthfully, he rather enjoyed it so far – but her face. She was so expressive, her emotions bare and clear, and especially with her eyes. He loved staring into her eyes, loved how they shifted from bright red to almost maroon or burgundy with the shifts of her moods.

Toriel's eyes closed for a moment, her smile suddenly changing from coy, to something... very gentle. She bit her lip, her face reddening, and in that moment, he realised that it _wasn't_ just a game for her, like he'd worried about when she'd first asked him. No, with that one look, it was clear that she was truly interested in him, and perhaps deeper than he'd allowed himself to believe.

“Tori,” he whispered, and those eyes opened slowly, meeting his once more. “May... may I...?”

Toriel raised her head, blinking in surprise. “Yes, it's rather unfair right now, isn't it?” she agreed, the coy smile back. She leaned back and pulled his hands away, then shifted up a little to hike up her robes around her hips, before she settled back down and pulled them off over her head, placing them – and her crown – with Asgore's shirt.

He swallowed hard, then, because with that revelation, he saw that her blush had spread to her chest, and he suddenly yearned to kiss her, there, to see if he could cool that skin...

She then reached up and under her camisole, fussing for a moment with her tongue sticking out, before she grinned and shrugged, then grabbed her camisole and threw it off, too, leaving her clad only in her undergarments - soft, frilly material that went to her knees like short, frothy pants.

Asgore was speechless again, his hands resting on his chest and trembling. She leaned down to press against him, but he reached up and touched her shoulder, stopping her. She blinked, confused, but Asgore lowered his eyes to her breasts, and he felt his mouth go dry. She was plump, like he was, with a soft belly and generous hips and thighs, and her breasts were modest in comparison to these curves, but not lacking.

“ _Shit_ ,” he whispered, before he covered his mouth with his other hand, blushing and looking up at Toriel, about to apologise.

“You _can_ curse,” she said, sounding rather surprised. “Why don't you more often? It's fun!”

Asgore blinked, then lowered his hand from his mouth. “Because... if an employer hears me, I'm fired. Plus, my dad doesn't like it too much...”

Toriel eyed him closely, seeming to be caught in thoughts he knew were beyond him, before she nodded. “That makes sense,” she agreed. “It's actually not a bad way to go in public, in general, really.”

He smiled. “Precisely. But, uh...” His smile twitched. “I'm sorry... It's just, Toriel, you're...” He swallowed hard. “Beautiful.”

Toriel stared at him, before she leaned down and kissed him, so deeply that he grunted in surprise, reaching for her and holding her close. He returned it, his mind completely overtaken by her, now, and he was eager for more.

He reached up and cupped her breast, again, his other hand going to her cheek, and she purred yet again, shifting closer. Beneath his palm, he felt her nipple harden, and he jerked in surprise; it was an incredible feeling.

Toriel's hands went back to his chest, smoothing over the hair upon it and brushing her palms teasingly over his nipples. Each time, she also grinded against him, and pretty soon, he was completely in her thrall, unable to think of anything else.

His other hand carefully moved down, sliding it down her bare back, his eyes closing when he felt how strong and wide it was, as well as soft and fuzzy, and he shivered. When he felt Toriel shiver in return and pressed closer, his hand paused, suddenly unable to think.

Toriel broke their kiss, burying her face into the curve of his neck, beginning to kiss there, again, and his hands clenched a little, a soft moan escaping between his lips. He couldn't help it; she felt so _good_...

“Tori--!” he gasped out, then, as she not only started biting him along the curve of his neck, but had grabbed his hand from her breast and pulled it down – then suddenly beneath her uundergarments.

He felt warmth, and soft hair, and such soft, smooth skin...

“Tori, oh god,” he gasped, his hand frozen in shock. Her hand gripped onto his wrist tight, sitting up and leaning back a little, and when he could, he opened his eyes and looked up at her.

Her head was lowered, her face bright red, and her eyes were shut tight, her teeth bared and gritted together. She was panting, now, and her blush had spread to her shoulders, too.

“Gorey,” she growled out, “Please…?”

“I… don't know what to do,” he admitted shyly, keeping his hand still, despite his mind racing with the urge to move it.

Toriel shoved her hand down to join his, leading his down lower, so that his fingers were able to feel her soft folds closer. When he did, his eyes flared in shock; she was hot, there, and very slick. Her eyes opened halfway and met his, and he stared back, completely entranced.

She moved his fingers between those folds, shifting them up, before he felt them land somewhere higher than he expected – until he realised what he was touching, and Toriel cried out softly. He traced her clit, blinking; it was not what he'd expected, either. 

“Oh...” he whispered, his eyes widening. “Kind of like...?”

She nodded, her other hand going to the front of his pants with clear agreement, grinning. His eyes closed briefly, but he nodded in return, and when he felt her hand slip beneath, it took everything he could not to ruin things.

Especially when she not only closed her hand around him, but shifting her hips so that his fingers moved over her. He couldn't help it: he groaned softly, his eyes squeezing shut, especially when her hand started moving along the length of his cock.

When that happened, he desperately tried to distract himself, his mind going instead to his fingers, where they were, and what they were touching... but that made it a lot worse.

“Shit,” he gasped out, reaching up quickly and stopping her hand, before stopping his own. “Stop, _stop_...”

Toriel immediately pulled her hands away, nodding and holding them up. She moved to get off of him, but that wasn’t what he'd meant, and he grabbed her hips with a protest and stopped her—

\--and blew it.

Because when he did that, she shifted damningly and perfectly against his cock, and he not only could feel so much, but also have the memory of how it felt _touching_ her, there, and...

 _“Shit!”_ he growled, grabbing her and burying his face into her chest, groaning out long and low – and with keen, unexpected pleasure – as he jerked up - and _came_.

Toriel froze, but he barely realised it. His mind was completely hijacked by it, and he held her tight, unable to restrain it, anymore. He then fell back, and – yes, she would torment him for this for years – blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't judge him too harshly; the poor guy is a 16-year-old virgin with a hot princess in his lap. I'd react likewise, and I'm a chick.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy :3

**Chapter** **Thirteen**

Toriel blinked slowly, her eyebrows up and her whole body frozen in surprise – but certainly not cold. She sighed, smiling a bit wryly, before she crawled off of Asgore and sat down beside him, blushing a little and grabbing the blanket, throwing it over him again. She then sat up, pulled her legs to her chest, and rested her chin on her knees, her arms around her legs.

Her gaze was drawn to his face, and when she'd taken it all in, her smile relaxed. She uncurled and knelt beside him, before she reached down and touched his cheek, gently.

 _Good choice of a mate,_ she sighed to herself. _Sexual activity makes him faint. That's great, Toriel._

And yet, even when that cynic side of herself sniped at her for this, she still felt nothing but soft, kind emotion toward him, especially when brushing his hair back from his sweaty forehead.

It really was kind of sweet, if annoying; he clearly found her rather overwhelming, but in a way he obviously enjoyed. She smirked at that, still feeling a little damp; she was glad monsters didn't breed like humans did, or she'd be in trouble.

When he'd told her to stop, it was because of his limited stamina, not because he wanted her less, or not any longer.

_But... fainting?_

Turned out, she over-assessed that; it was mere minutes into touching his face that she felt him twitch – then groan in dismay, his hands going up to his face and covering it, before he turned on his side and actually tried to hide from her under the blanket.

“Asgore,” she called gently, touching his shoulder.

“No,” Asgore answered. “Please don't wake me up and remind me of what just happened. I truly do not want to face it...”

Toriel blinked, then laughed; it was one that came right from the gut, that bubbled up and spread through the entire body. She collapsed against Asgore's back and just howled with laughter, tears coming to her eyes.

_I love this dweeb. I love him so much…_

Asgore stiffened at first, until she landed on him. Then, she felt him shift a little, then heard him snort; clearly, he was trying to restrain his own laughter. When she clearly wasn't done, he started giggling, and that only made it worse, really, and she laughed even harder, her sides hurting.

For a moment, a wonderful moment, there was this silly repose of laughter, one spent beneath a canopy of trees and cool air, with a breeze that practically tasted of wood smoke and dry leaves...

When Toriel finally managed to calm herself, she was bright red and crying from it, draped over his side with her face buried in his blanketed shoulder. Asgore's laughs went soft, before they faded, too, and for another moment, they listened to each other's breaths, allowing that sound to calm their own.

Then, Toriel whispered, “Gorey, would you like to try again another day?”

He was silent. And oddly... still. She listened, and realised he was breathing rather... oddly.

_Hm...?_

She grinned, quickly slipping her hand beneath the blanket still covering him and touching his bare skin, trailing her fingertips along his side slowly. Asgore sighed deeply, hiding his face from her for a moment – but then he grabbed her hand and dragged it forward, turning himself a bit so that her hand landed on—

“Oh!” she cried, her face heating up but her smile widening. She adjusted her fingers to curl around his very hard cock – she noted this with flattered glee – and she felt him lie back and relax with a soft huff, his arms going around her.

Toriel stared into his eyes – they kept staying blue, merely flashing with it, and never once showed a trace of orange – and smiled, moving her hand slowly along the length, keeping her hold firm and her body close. Asgore shoved the blanket away and turned completely to her, and when he touched her cheek, she leaned down and kissed his lips, her eyes closing from how wonderful they always felt against her own.

Asgore kept one arm around her, but the other was busy; even while he kissed her in a way that left her rather silly, he still had the concentration to not only throw the blanket aside, but grab hold of his pants, yanking them down from his hips and only managing to get them as far as his knees before he had to drop back, again, deepening the kiss with a soft growl.

She shivered, finding that she quite enjoyed that sound, but she slowly pulled away from him, curiosity getting the better of her. She turned her head to look down – and closed her eyes with a soft gasp; Asgore had leaned down and slid the tip of his tongue along her neck, and it felt wonderful.

“Stop that,” she chastised. “I'm interested.”

“Mm...” Asgore answered, his hand now at her back as he simply licked her neck again, this time the other way, and slower. His other hand, she noticed, was kept at his side, his fingers digging into the leaves beneath him, and she smiled.

Her eyes finally landed on his cock, and she felt heat flash through her as though she was made of flint; it was bare, smooth, and while not overtly long, it certainly wasn't modest, more thick than anything else. It fit quite nicely in her hand, so she knew it probably wouldn't be an issue for her, and when she pumped her hand along the length, using his foreskin, she felt it twitch and harden even more, despite still being wet.

Her mouth went dry. She looked back at his hand, let go of his cock for a moment – something that made him jump in surprise – and grabbed it, pulling it toward her and once again slipping it back into her undergarments, moving his fingers immediately between the folds. Asgore groaned softly against her lips, and his other hand moved down from her back to her waist, tugging on those garments. She grinned, nodding, and with his helped, she wiggled out of them and tossed them aside, completely naked, now.

However, when she went to return the favour and take his pants off, he stopped her, again, and she looked back, biting her lip and blushing. His eyes moved slowly over her body, but his expression changed not to one of disappointment, but actual... _wonder_?

 _What a strange way to look at me,_ she thought in bewilderment. She was well aware that her body was generous and showed evidence of that, in both size and upon her skin.

But Asgore was looking at her like she was some kind of beautiful dancer, and it froze her, her blush worsening the longer he looked. She tried to tug on his pants again, but her fingers fumbled.

“Tori?” he whispered, their eyes meeting once more. She nodded, too stunned to speak, still, and he reached up and held her face between his hands. “You truly want to make love with me? And... and not just as a lay?”

Toriel's eyes flared, and she felt raw anger fill her, truly insulted by the very idea of such a thing. She pulled away from his reach and bared her fangs at him, then reached down and finally tossed his pants off, surprising him.

“Asgore,” she snarled, leaning down and pinning him into the leaves by the shoulders. “Look at me. I’m _naked_ in front of you, _both_ in body and emotion, and you _dare_ think I would do such an intimate thing simply to _get off?!”_

Asgore paled, his hands dropping, and he lowered his eyes in shame.

“I have two hands, Asgore!” she continued, squeezing his shoulders to emphasise this point. “I don't need to sleep with _everyone_ to get off! Do you even remember what I said to you barely a half-hour ago?!”

Asgore's eyes went back to hers, and they glinted. “You said... you wanted me to be your mate.”

“Not a roll, not a lay, not a fuck, but a _mate,_ Asgore,” she agreed, between her teeth, now. She was shaking. “I'm a woman of honour. I may be free with my sexuality but that doesn't make me free with _sex_. I told you I was a virgin.”

“I know,” he agreed, truly looking sorry, now, and the longer she looked at him, the easier it was to start calming down. “You did, and I know you're not a liar. You've no reason to lie about that.” He shut his eyes. “Tori... it's truly not your fault. I'm just...”

Toriel sighed, then, closing her eyes. She knew. She understood what he meant. And it truly wasn't his fault, either.

When she felt Asgore's hand beneath her ear, again, her eyes opened, and she saw a young man with open sincerity and genuine kindness, one who stumbled with words but still meant well. She was insulted, but not as much, knowing now that it wasn't asked in malice, but self-preservation.

“Gorey, do you want to stop?” she asked him, reaching up and brushing his hair from his eyes.

“No,” he answered immediately. “Tori, I want to make love with you, and I truly cannot think of a better time of place than now.”

“They why fight me on it?” she demanded, her voice breaking a little.

“Because... I don't want my heart broken,” he admitted weakly. His head moved up, and he pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes closing. “I'm... _stupidly_ in love with you, Toriel Dreemurr.”

Toriel surprised them both, and laughed. It was a soft one, this time, one that carried a waver to it, and she kissed his nose, then nuzzled it. “That makes me so happy,” she admitted. “Because _I’m_ stupidly in love with _you_ , Asgore.”

Asgore's eyes went a little hazy, and she quickly tapped his cheek until they focused, again. When they did, he looked awestruck – and directly into her eyes, despite her nudity. If she hadn't believed he loved her before then, with that, she absolutely did.

Toriel's eyes remained on his, but she sat up on her knees and reached down – and grinned, making him blush and laugh a little: he was hard, again.

“Nothing turns me on more than love,” he admitted shyly.

She stared at him, swallowing hard, before she crawled atop him and wrapped around him, keeping one hand between both of their legs and still around his cock. His breaths went uneven, but his hands went right to her hips and held firm, and she grinned... then lost that grin.

“Gorey, this... might be bad,” she realised. “We're both virgins. And I don't know if I even have a hymen, let alone if it's broken or not.”

Asgore smiled. “Toriel, even if it _is_ bad – which I doubt - I don't care, because it's with _you_. And, also...” His smile went mischievous. “If we _are_ to be mated, we'll have lots of time to practise and get better.”

Toriel laughed yet again. She realised he might always make her laugh, and cherished that. And she cherished him, too.

“I like that idea,” she agreed. “Do you mind if I stay up here, just in case?”

Asgore nodded quickly. “Truthfully, uh, well.” He smiled crookedly. “I quite enjoy you on top of me, Tori.”

Toriel blushed, deeply charmed and flattered by that. Especially since she rather adored it, herself.

“Alright, then,” she said calmly, though she was anything but calm. “If you give me a moment...” She winked, trying to mask her shaking, but she knew she failed the moment Asgore began to rub her back – and with fingers that trembled, too.

He understood.

She kissed his lips, then, pressing down, while using her hand to angle his cock toward her cunt and between its folds. They both breathed out rather sharply the moment the head of his cock merely brushed against her clit, but Toriel wanted more, already.

She shifted, and then, while pushing her tongue between his lips and meeting his own, moved herself down along his cock and pulled him deep within her.

She groaned deeply, her eyes closing tight; it felt wonderful, so amazingly wonderful, that she realised her fingers would have never been able to emulate such a feeling. Beneath her, she felt Asgore grab hold of her tight, crying out softly against her lips, and she kept still for a moment, so that they could both adjust.

She didn't stop kissing him, but she focused on how he felt within her. She did feel a slight ache, but it was fading fast, and truly, the feel of him there was enough to distract her. He wasn't quite touching her as deeply as she'd imagined, but he was damn near close, and it felt incredible.

Asgore was panting, and he pulled away to bury his face into her shoulder, his arms around her and his fingers digging into her back. Her hand held his shoulders, until she reached up and slowly stroked his hair from his forehead, feeling it already a little sweaty.

“Tori,” he gasped out.

“Hold back, please,” she teased, kissing his shoulder, but he seemed to take her seriously, and he nodded. “Tell me when you're ready...” Her voice wavered, unable to help it; her mind was swimming with so many thoughts, but she shoved them all away in order to focus solely on Asgore.

She could think about the importance of this, later. Now... Now, she just wanted to love, and be loved in return.

“Okay,” Asgore whispered after a moment, and she felt him twitch a little within her, still hard and eager, and she blushed. She bit her lip, then pushed him back down onto his back again and kept hold of his shoulders, pulling his arms around her waist when he hesitated.

Their eyes met.

Then, as one, they both smiled – and Toriel shifted her hips slowly.

Asgore fell back, his eyes closing tight and his face reddening. His fingers dug into her hips, and she felt a bit of nail. It made her raise an eyebrow, wondering how much control she could make him lose.

 _But first,_ she decided, _me._

She slowly moved her hips again, moving in a manner that had her pulling away almost completely from Asgore, before simply pushing back and bringing him back in deep. She kept that pace slow, both to keep Asgore's stamina, but also because it felt amazing along her clit.

She marvelled at this, intrigued by such a thing. She'd no idea that simple friction like this could touch her clit so intimately and – rather truthfully – so perfectly, and was surprised by how it felt. She had not anticipated her body having a short fuse with a love, as she did not when masturbating. But barely a minute had passed, and already she could feel her mind clouding over and her body building back pleasure.

She was impressed, later.

But right now, she was _desperate_.

When she felt that easy pleasure, something came over her, something wild and instinctive, and she let it take over, her mind both on pleasuring herself - but also Asgore.

He seemed already to be enjoying himself; he would often gasp, or grin, or simply whisper out her name, between kisses or against her nipple or neck, his hands warm and firm along her back and hips.

“Asgore,” she breathed out, her face pressed against his shoulder, her eyes squeezed tight. “Asgore, how long is it supposed to usually take for someone to come during sex?” Her words spilled out, fast and soft. 

And to her utmost delight, he gasped out, between laughs, “Hell if I know!”

She giggled against his skin, her nails biting into his hips, now, and she moved faster, her breaths getting raspy and grated.

“I ask,” she barely got out, “because I am... about to...”

She felt him jump in surprise, but she ignored it, because at that moment, she felt her orgasm creep up on her – and then strike her, hard, so hard that she babbled nonsense, her eyes stinging, but aware she was grinning, because her cheeks hurt.

_This is nothing like I ever expected..._

_Thank fuck for that...!_

She cried out, writhing against him, unable to help it; it drew out the waves of pleasure, and she wanted that _very_ much. She heard Asgore cry out in surprise, felt him suddenly sit up with her and hold her to him tight, his hips jerking up, but was so dazed that she barely understood it – even when it sent aftershocks through her.

She buried her face into his neck, gasping for breath and trembling, still shifting a little. She felt him do the same – and she suddenly felt it: moisture.

And suddenly she was gasping from laughter, grabbing his face and kissing his lips deeply, pushing him back down. He grunted, then laughed back weakly, holding her close.

She never wanted him to let her go.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fourteen**

Asgore shuddered, his entire body overcome with the force of that second orgasm, one he didn't even bother trying to fight, because it was brought on by Toriel's own orgasm. He held onto her for dear life, truly afraid for a moment that if he let her go, he really would die.

It would be a good way to die, but he still preferred not to.

 _“Asgore,”_ Toriel gasped out, her voice sending shivers up his spine. It was one he'd never heard anyone make in front of him, before, and yet he still knew it for what it was: satisfied lust.

He nodded weakly, limp beneath her, now, his mind overcome with her, only her, how she'd looked, how she'd felt, how she'd sounded...

He felt her move a little, before he suddenly felt the blanket thrown over them both. He smiled, pulling it down closer, and she paused, then slowly moved off of him. They both made a soft sound, before Toriel slid beside him and curled up under his arm. He wrapped the other around her and pulled _her_ closer, and she relaxed and sighed again, deeply.

“Toriel,” he breathed out, burying his nose into the top of her head, taking in her scent and allowing it to wash over him. “That was anything but bad.”

Toriel laughed softly, kissing his chest gently. “No, that was quite lovely, wasn't it?” she agreed.

Asgore hesitated, his mind suddenly overcome, and he shut his eyes. Without really thinking about it, he held Toriel tighter to him and buried his face into her shoulder, hiding it there and shaking, his nails digging into her back.

_It really happened._

_I'm not dreaming._

_I'm not..._

_I just..._

_I’m actually..._

_I want to marry her, so much, right now, right here, even._

_This is really happening..._

He felt Toriel hold him close, occasionally kissing the top of his head, one hand gently rubbing his back while the other stroked his hair. When she moved, he felt it: she was shaking, too, her heart racing and her skin sweaty, still, her breaths fast.

It meant as much to her as it had to him, and he hadn't realised he'd doubted that until that moment. But now, he had no doubt. It vanished like smoke, and he never looked back.

Not for decades.

“Tori,” he whispered against her skin, his lips right between her breasts, and she shivered. “I love you.”

“Gorey,” she whispered back, stroking one of his ears – and sending him into a new kind of heaven, emphasised when she added, “I love you, too.”

For a moment, they allowed this silliness to stretch on, as Asgore certainly became silly when his ears were scratched, and Toriel absolutely loved it – that was made clear when she never stopped.

But when he reached up and pulled her hand away, things became serious again, and they both looked at each other eye-to-eye, Asgore holding Toriel's hand to his chest.

“Hello,” she murmured, her eyes wavering and her smile turning soft. She touched his cheek, and he smiled and leaned into her palm, holding it in place.

“Tori,” he murmured, “when you say _mated_ , how do you mean it?”

Toriel sighed, her smile turning exasperated. “Asgore, it means _mated._ What else can it possibly mean but what it means?!”

Asgore felt his cheeks burn. “Marriage,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Toriel agreed, touching his hair gently. “You'd become a Prince. I think it would suit you.”

Asgore blinked in surprise; he hadn't thought about that, and he realised he wasn't sure what to think about it. He couldn't just leave his family like that, no matter how much he loved Toriel.

Plus, he knew they would bring his youth into light, and he already felt irritated by that…

“Goodness, the facial journeys you go through,” Toriel murmured, bringing him back from his thoughts. “That was very intense.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I was just... wondering what being a Prince would mean, and what it would do to my family.”

“For, not to,” was Toriel's answer. When Asgore tilted his head, she smiled. “What it would do _for_ your family, not _to_. I would never forget your family, Gorey. They would be just as well care for as you, but in an honest and fair way that makes both sides happy.”

Asgore stared at her. She was offering his family job security but without making it seem charitable. It stunned him; it was very, _very_ generous.

“I love you, Asgore,” she repeated, kissing his nose gently. “All I want is you in my life, and happy. And I'll do whatever it takes.”

Asgore swallowed a sudden lump in his throat, then took hold of her face and kissed her deeply, so overcome that he couldn't hold back. He felt so much for her all at once, and he wanted to make sure she knew it.

When he pulled away, breathless, Toriel smiled, her eyes closed and her face red. “So, yes?” she wondered, needlessly in his opinion.

“Yes,” he agreed right away, nodding to make it even clearer.

“It will take a year after we announce it,” she warned, her eyes narrowing. “Do you think you can love me for that long?”

Asgore laughed. “Tori, I think you have to worry about my love lasting _too long.”_

Toriel smiled, only this time, it was tender. “Impossible,” she replied.

Asgore kissed her, again, and for another sweet moment, they remained in a bubble of kisses beneath that blanket, their naked skin warming up and keeping them snug in the cooling autumn air.

Then Toriel broke away and whispered, “We should get dressed, Gorey. We've spent the afternoon.”

“Oh, did we?” Asgore wondered happily. “At least the afternoon is as spent as we are!”

Toriel laughed and nudged his nose with her own, before she slipped away and tossed him his clothes.

For a moment, he had a sense of unreality, one that began when he touched his clothes. The situation he was in seemed to wash over him slowly, and it made him blink from the strangeness of it all.

Had he really just made love with Princess Toriel?

After knowing her barely two days?

And after proclaiming he loved her enough to want to be her mate for life?

_Did I really do all of those things...?_

But then he caught a flash of movement, and his eyes followed it – to Toriel. The flash had come from her crown, the sunlight hitting it and making it gleam as she placed it back upon her head. Once it was perfectly in place, she took hold of the blankets and began to fold them up.

He looked closer, and saw that her eyes made a liar of her nonchalance act; they gleamed, too, just as brightly as her crown's gems in the sunlight.

It was real.

 _She_ was real.

For all of this life, Asgore had made sure to follow every single rule, to the number or letter – or both – and always made sure he was either ignored or deemed harmless.

He had to. It was part of his job, his life. His _survival_.

But now, Toriel was offering him the one-way ride into a new life that would put him into a spotlight, put every action of his into question, make everything he said into something to react about – the exact opposite of what his entire life had always been.

And yet, instead of feeling terrified, like he knew he should – and like he knew his parents would be – he simply felt... curious. Interested. Keen to know what would happen, next.

He wanted to know what would happen if he was given a chance to actually speak, and Toriel was giving him one.

The best part, though, was that she wasn't doing it for her own gain, but for his.

Or, no. Perhaps that wasn't true. She certainly seemed like she _felt_ she was gaining something by mating him, so it wasn't a selfless act. Rather, what made it seem genuine for him was that, in comparison, she stood to _lose_ by marrying him; she would be lowering her status, especially in the eyes of the humans.

Could they even afford that? Things were already so tense; what would happen if something like this happened, and made their fastidious and tightly-wound rules about royalty look as foolish as they were?

 _Especially if I prove good at it,_ he realised, his eyes widening.

He wanted to be. He'd never cared about that kind of think before, his interests in politics solely from an observational standpoint, rather than one within the circus of it.

Toriel's passion had changed his mind.

It wasn't just her passion when it came to him, but her passion when it came to her people. She truly cared about them, wanted things to be as good as possible, and was deeply disturbed when she discovered they were not.

No one was that good an actor, politician or not.

He wanted this. He did. As reckless and foolish as it was, he wanted this, more than anything else in the entire world.

When they were both dressed and somewhat tidied up, Toriel gathered the blankets up in her arms and walked – slowly – back to their little makeshift picnic. He blinked; was she... limping?

He followed her, concerned, and she sat down for a moment, breathing out deeply and brushing the sweat from her forehead. When he sat down next to her, she smiled and looked up at him.

“Tori, are you alright?” he wondered, touching her cheek; it was a little pale.

She nodded, nuzzling his hand for a moment, before she grabbed a mug and poured herself some juice, gulping it back almost greedily. He realised he was rather parched, himself, and he did the same, for a moment just enjoying this simple repose of sharing a drink.

Then, Toriel said his full name, and he met her gaze, gulping a little. Her tone was serious, and her expression matched it.

“I'm serious,” she murmured, her eyes searching his rather closely.

“I know,” he agreed. “And I am, too.”

“I want to know what kind of Prince you'll make,” she admitted, touching his hand. “But even if you are absolutely atrocious, I want you at my side, still. I mean that, Asgore.”

“I know you do, Toriel,” he replied, smiling gently at her. Something in her eyes relaxed, then, and she smiled in return, relaxing a little. “And I want the same things.”

Toriel stared at him, her smile vanishing. “Perhaps I'm the one who has fainted, and am dreaming all of this.”

He kissed her lips, gently but with real emotion, and she hugged onto him and returned it.

Then, her ears twitched, and she pulled away from him, sighing. “Has it been two hours?” she wondered, her voice oddly loud.

“Yes,” a voice agreed, so close by that Asgore jumped back and yelped a little, shocked. A Guard stood just a few paces away, as if they'd been there the whole time – but he knew they had not.

“Alright,” Toriel sighed. “That means my time is up.”

Asgore's heart fell, but he helped her pack everything up, anyway – and smiled when she gave him a spare sandwich. She shoved all of it at another Guard – one Asgore also hadn't seen show up – before she glared at both Guards, and they backed away.

Toriel then embraced him tight, burying her face into his neck. He held her close, his own face going into her short white hair, her scent making his eyes close.

Then, she bit him, and he yelped – and she laughed. He spluttered for a moment, blushing, before he joined in, unable to resist, especially when she leaned on him to stay on her feet.

“I'll see you tonight,” she whispered when she could, right into his ear. He blinked, confused and about to ask her to clarify, but she darted away with a grin and a wink – and a kiss to his lips.

He was still confused as he watched her vanish into the copse of trees, her Guards following her closely despite their heavy loads.

Slowly, he sat down on the ground, his eyes wide and fixed on the still-flat patch of ground mere steps away from him.

 _“Holy shit,”_ he whispered.

It was a gross understatement, indeed.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Fifteen**

“Princess Toriel, stop.”

She did, sighing deeply with both annoyance and, admittedly, a bit of guilt. She knew both of her Guards knew what had just happened, and she didn't want to talk about it. However, she did feel bad for making them leave her alone for so long, as it could have put their jobs on the line.

But it did not. Toriel was _anything_ but hurt.

_Well, mostly._

“Princess...” Alex's voice was long-suffering, muffled by the things they were carrying in their arms, the pile almost up to their eyes – eyes that were narrowed.

“Yes, Alex,” Toriel sighed, not turning around, not even when Alex caught up with her to meet her gaze.

“You're limping,” was their response, their voice flat and their eyes sharp.

“She is?!” Ingrid cried, peering desperately over her own armful. She started jogging to catch up, before her footsteps slowed.

“Wait,” she added, her voice less worried, now.

“What happened?” Alex demanded, their eyes boring into Toriel's and making her feel queasy. She was confused; wasn't it _obvious,_ what happened? “Did he hurt you?”

Toriel stared at them, the very idea of it so alien to her that it stunned her to silence. Just the thought of Asgore that way was so completely the opposite of the Asgore she knew that it was almost laughable – had it not offended her.

 _“Of course he did not,”_ she hissed, her eyes blazing and her teeth bared. “Why the hell would I _ever_ let you leave me alone, otherwise?”

Ingrid finally caught up, and she peeked up over her armful and... absolutely _beamed_ at Toriel, shocking her. It was such a contrast to Alex's expression that Toriel accidentally glared at her.

“Princess?” Ingrid asked softly, her eyes wide.

Toriel's expression eased, and she smiled, unable to help it. To be able to tell someone, anyone, and to have it greeted with kindness, was something she didn't know she'd craved until now.

“Yes,” she whispered, nodding.

Ingrid’s eyes flared, before she staggered, trying to hug Toriel as well as hold her burden, and she stumbled back, blushing. She was probably one of the silliest dragons that Toriel had ever met, and yet she knew she could trust her with everything.

Especially with _that_ reaction.

“No wonder you're limping!” Ingrid cried. “Goodness! You're not small, Toriel, but he's quite large!”

Toriel gaped at her, her face burning, before she burst into laughter. It was the kind that a child would make, when she walks into a room to find a surprise party, when she'd been certain that her birthday had been forgotten.

Alex stared at her, then shifted a glare to Ingrid, before looking back to Toriel – who was doubled over, now, crying with her laughter.

She couldn't help it. It was such a strange, silly reaction, that she couldn't resist.

When she was able to walk again, still coughing on her laughter, her Guards following after her quickly.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” was Alex's only contribution, which proved funnier than anything else Ingrid could ever add, and Toriel ended up falling into the leaves, roaring with laughter.

And with added happiness, Toriel grabbed a handful and tossed it over her head, letting the leaves rain over her, just like it had mere days ago.

She felt so much older, now, and not just because of the sex; rather, it was because she had finally shed the layer of fur that she'd refused to brush out.

She was tired of being a child.

She wanted to actually be a _Princess_.

She didn't want to be one just because she was born to the right parents, but by her own merit. Her parents had placed the crown upon her head, and she wanted her people keep it there because they _wanted_ it to stay in place.

She wanted to prove that she could.

The moment she got back to her feet, though she still had a few leaves stuck in her hair, she'd shed that layer at last.

Toriel was finally ready to be the Princess of Monsters.

But she had to know: was Asgore ready to be the Prince?

Toriel smiled wider.

Either way, tonight, she would know for sure.

* * *

When Toriel managed to sneak into the Chambers, she inwardly crowed with both amusement and triumph.

That is, until she sat down beside her mother – and suddenly had blunt but stinging claws dug into her knee. She squeaked, looking up at her mother with surprise.

Her mother was staring at her, even as the entire Chambers was still in session and echoing with human and monster voices. Her expression was blank, almost scary, really – until their eyes met.

Then, her mother started with shock, and her grip eased, softening to one of affection. Her eyes softened – then filled, and Toriel felt her throat clog up with tears of her own. She nodded, and Alexandrine closed her eyes, smiling sadly and nodding in return.

“Asgore?” she mouthed.

When Toriel nodded, Alexandrine grabbed her hand into her own and held it tight, bringing it up and tucking Toriel's arm under her own, her hand held to her chest.

Toriel looked up at her, concerned; her hand was trembling, and even when she moved her eyes back to the Chambers, they wavered, still.

_Is she angry? Disappointed? Does she know the entire extent of how far I’ve gone – and how much further I want to go...?_

Then, Toriel heard her father snap out, “That's inappropriate, and has absolutely _nothing_ to do with how we rule. How _dare_ you take something so personal and use it as a needless weapon!”

Toriel's eyes flared, and she turned to where her father looked, seeing a human standing and looking angrily at him. It was a male, dressed in rich purple and wearing a crown, and it took Toriel a moment to place him: the Human Crown Prince of Ebott.

“It most certainly _is_ valid!” he protested hotly, his face going bright red with anger. He was a pretty human – Toriel guessed; she wasn't very attracted to humans very much, having yet to meet one she found likable – with long blond hair and bright green eyes. He was roundish, but still clearly had stamina and some muscle, and he was very tall.

Toriel didn't like Prince Ronald. She never had. She'd grown up knowing him, as for a while, there was the idea of arranging a marriage with him, as a means to ease the building tensions.

But when Alexandrine and Edgar watched him grow up and into the person he was, now, they dissolved the engagement before either of them were even twelve - or actually formally engaged.

Toriel wondered, now, if he was still bitter. She glared at him, despite not knowing what he'd said; she could tell it was horrible.

“And how do you figure that?” Edgar demanded.

Toriel was dismayed to see that most of the humans surrounding the Prince were agreeing with Ron, and not Edgar.

“Because of it, we have no idea of Princess Toriel is even your child.”

Toriel went bright red, a wave of fury sweeping through her. Immediately, she understood what she had missed, and she started to stand up, her fangs bared and her hands hot.

Alexandrine, however, held her arm fast and kept her sitting. She struggled to pull away, about to open her mouth and scream at him the worst insults she could imagine—

“Tori, no, think,” her mother whispered quickly, her voice quiet enough that no human could ever hear her. “Think, breathe, and _listen_ , Tori.”

She bit her lip, settling back down and closing her eyes, her hands clenched and very, very hot, seconds from bursting into flame. She felt her mother rub the hand she held, and she exhaled slowly.

Which was good, because Edgar was replying.

“Prince Ronald, you _are_ out of line,” he said softly, his voice sharp with fury. He bared his fangs and glared, but remained sitting, his hands folded neatly in his lap. “Toriel is of course my daughter. And Alexandrine is Toriel's mother. There is no question of--,”

“You are a _woman_ , Edgar!” the Prince snarled - again, Toriel later learnt. “Two women cannot have children!”

Toriel bit back a snarl, starting to tremble with rage. Beside her, her mother was, too, but her hand was still gentle upon Toriel's, despite her shaking fingers.

“I am a _man_ , and the _King_ of Monsters,” Edgar answered. His voice was louder, now, and deep with his barely held-back anger. Not many people knew it, but Toriel had inherited her short temper from him. “Through my wife, I am King, and have been for longer than you've been _alive_. You are walking dangerously, and I suggest you move on from this, before you humiliate yourself – _and_ your father.”

The Prince went scarlet. Everyone knew that his father, the King of Ebott, was sick, and that Ron had been trying to fill in for him as best as he could. He was terrible at it, but no one said it to his face, aware of the power he would abuse to get even.

Edgar's words were as close as anyone had ever come to doing so.

“Besides,” Alexandrine suddenly broke in, her voice impressively calm and even, “the bloodline goes through _me_. If you are too simple to understand how monsters reproduce, regardless of sex or gender, that is _not_ _our_ _problem_. But even _you_ should understand that Toriel is legitimate through me, if you cannot do the same for my husband.”

Toriel stared at her, smiling so wide it hurt. Not only had Alexandrine humiliated Ronald with logic, but she'd done it in a way to render his bigoted comments meaningless.

 _That's how I need to rule,_ she realised. _With anger transformed into wit._

_Words into weapons. Knives from nouns..._

Toriel squeezed her mother's hand, and received one back.

“You’re a woman, too,” the Prince sneered. “Women cannot be _true_ rulers.”

“That is one way to look at things,” Edgar answered calmly. “But not how we do. We must agree to disagree, and move on. Otherwise we will get nowhere, today.”

Ronald looked ready to snap back, but beside him, his mother reached up and touched his arm.

Despite her being the Queen, her son somehow outranked him, so he spoke, instead. But even Ronald had respect for his mother, Margaret, and he closed his mouth and nodded curtly, sitting back down.

After that, someone else stood up and brought up a different topic – use of magic in public, on both sides – and the atmosphere eased and loosened around them.

But Toriel's eyes remained on the Prince of Humans, and when he noticed, he glowered back. She bared her fangs at him, her own glare glittering with magic, and he rolled his eyes and looked away, pretending to be bored when, clearly, he _was_ intimidated.

She suddenly hated that he had blond hair. She hated that he shared the same hair colour as her lover, hated that someone so void of light could be coloured that way. She wanted to burn that hair, make it ashen-coloured, instead, to match the colour she imagined his soul was.

Toriel would never, ever forget this day, for as long as she lived, even decades later.

Because it was the first day that Toriel declared war on the Prince of Humans, in silence and without him even knowing it.

And it would be that personal war that would create a real one – and change their entire world.

* * *

 When the Chambers were dismissed, and her family was finally back in their own castle and detoxing from such poison, Alexandrine suddenly said, "Ed, we need the dowry."

And Edgar stared at her, then Toriel, before looking away, his eyes shimmering with tears. 

In all of her life, she'd never seen her father cry like that. She'd seen him cry happily, or with helpless rage, or simply from grief. 

But this kind was like all of that, but with something added to it, something Toriel struggled to put a name to. 

"We also need to meet the parents," Alexandrine added gently, touching Edgar's shoulder and rubbing it. He nodded, sighing deeply, before he reached up and rubbed his eyes.

"Asgore, yes?" he asked Toriel softly, his eyes still a little teary. "You mother told me more about him, when you left, today."

He eyed Toriel closely for a moment, so closely that she felt anxious. 

"Truly, Tori?" he then added, his voice a soft whisper. He reached over and touched her cheek, cupping it within his palm, and she bit her lip, her own eyes burning with tears. 

But silently, she nodded, unaware that her eyes glinted bright and steely, as if ready to fight her own father over this decision.

And she was; she had the arguments all lined up, all in one row, and ready to be deployed like a Navy of willing marines. 

Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, nodding. "I trust you," he whispered against her hair.

Toriel closed her eyes tight, her tears running free, and she croaked out, "Thank you, Papa..." 

When her parents saw her tears, they gathered her to them, and like she was merely seven, she burst into tears and clung to them tight.

In that moment, she knew, her entire life had changed permanently. She was no longer a childish Princess eager to get tipsy.

 _Well... not as much, anyway,_ she thought with a weak smile. _As if I hadn't been that way, I would never of found Gorey in the first place..._

She buried her face into her father's shoulder. 

"Tonight?" her mother then added after a moment. 

When Toriel nodded again, she was held closer, and she, too, did not let go. 

Not even a little. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Sixteen**

Clumsily, Asgore walked toward the shed, still dizzy and dazed by everything. He was desperate to talk to Wing about it, and hoped that when he'd “had to go”, he'd meant the shed.

He was right, and it surprised him, despite his hopes. Most of him expected Wing to have either gone home or gone to a different job.

But, no. He sat in the corner of the shed, under the sunlight, sitting thoughtfully while holding a book. Around him was evidence that he'd not only found their original lunch, but ate it all.

He didn't look up, but he signed, rather clumsily, “Hello, fucker.”

Asgore gaped at him, struck dumb by this, and Wing looked up, his face oddly blank – save his eyes: they sparked a little. When he saw that, Asgore relaxed, smiling a little, and walked over, sitting down beside him.

“What book?” he asked, the only words he found he could speak at the moment.

Wing held it up. _Studies of Human Court and Country._

Asgore, for some reason, bit his lip when he saw that. It reminded him of what was going to happen, and how his entire life was about to change forever.

And he had to tell his best friend, too, knowing that he might end up hurting Wing without meaning to – though how, he wasn't sure. He just feared it, anyway.

“Wag,” Asgore murmured. “I… need to tell you something.”

“Nope,” was his reply. “I bet I already know.” And he grinned without looking up at him, still - _maybe?_ Asgore wasn’t sure - reading.

“Well,” Asgore answered, blushing. “Okay, fine. Tell me.”

In reply, Wing made a very rude gesture using both hands, and when Asgore smacked them, he laughed silently, almost falling over.

Then, he added, “I'm not wrong!”

“No, not really,” Asgore sighed, glowering at him. “We... did...” He blushed, looking away, suddenly worried that Wing would judge him harshly, somehow.

Wing tapped him, and when he looked up, Wing signed, his expression curious, “Was it everything you wanted, Asgore?”

Asgore swallowed hard, his eyes burning with tears. Wing smiled, nodding, and silently, Asgore hugged him, a hug that was returned immediately.

“Yes,” Asgore croaked out. “That's crazy, isn't it?”

Wing pulled away and shook his head. “Not always,” he admitted. “Not for everyone. For some, you need years. For others... not so much.”

Asgore sighed. “Wing, there's more...”

Wing smirked, and instead of answering, handed him the book he was reading.

Asgore glared at him. “I hate that you're so smart, sometimes, Wag.”

Wing bowed with a silent laugh, and in turn brought a smile back to Asgore – truly the goal all along.

Then, Asgore whispered, “Wag, I want you to come with me.”

Wing snorted, then blinked when he saw his friend's sombre expression. “Uh, to be honest, I’m not ready for marriage, least of all to two people!”

Asgore made a face. “No, Wag,” he grumbled, nudging his shoulder with his own. “I want you to _work_ with me.”

Wing looked up at him in surprise, blinking. He raised his hands, then lowered them, before just blinking again, clearly confused about what to say.

Asgore was relieved. “I want you to help me,” he admitted. “I want to be good at this, but I'm so far behind, and I know _you_ know way more than I do. I'm... too _stupid_ to do this...”

 _Damn_.

He hadn't meant to admit that, but it was too late; it was done.

He felt no surprise when he felt Wing smack him upside the head, and he barely flinched, simply blinking when he was hit. He looked over and found Wing glaring at him.

 _“Stupid?!”_ he echoed, his hands jerky with his anger. “You think you're stupid, why? Because you work with your hands? Because you couldn't finish school, and through no fault of your own?”

“Wag--,”

“And you _still_ hold onto this assumption, which is the only thing _actually_ stupid about you, despite having been with the Princess in the way you have?! Do you think _she's_ a fool?!”

“No!” Asgore protested.

“I think you do, if you feel her decision was stupid.”

“I said _I_ was stupid, not Tori,” Asgore growled.

“Yet she wants to mate _you_ , Asgore. She wants to make _you_ a Prince. She wants to make _you_ a King. After mere days of knowing you.”

Asgore winced; truly, when put that way, it made both himself and Toriel look like fools.

Wing could tell, and he smacked Asgore's shoulder before going on. “My point is, that clearly she sees intelligence in you, the same kind that I do, and the kind humans see but refuse to acknowledge, instead deciding to humiliate you so that you actually believe it, too!”

Asgore was silent, now, his eyes burning, but still on Wing. He wasn't wrong. At all. And it hurt.

“You are only an idiot if you continue to see yourself as one,” Wing continued, his own eyes blazing. “And if you see yourself through the eyes of humans. How about actually listening to those around you, who see your true worth? Enough to _fuck_ you for it?!”

That last part had Asgore slapping at Wing's hands, again, but the point was still sound.

Especially when he thought back.

 _”I'm..._ stupidly _in love with you, Toriel Dreemurr...”_

 _“That makes me so happy, because I'm stupidly in love with_ you _, Asgore.”_

Asgore leaned forward and covered his face with his hands, closing his eyes and feeling tears well up within him in truth, now.

He could easily say – and hear – the arguments that would be brought up, once this became public: that declarations of love during sex were not legally binding; that mere days does not make a real match, that that love was perhaps brought on by the haze of lust...

But then he remembered what Toriel said: they required a year before they got married, a year-long engagement. And with that, he discovered the brilliance of that seemingly arbitrary limitation. Because if it truly _had_ been done in haste and lust, only, it would be undone quickly in that year – likely less.

He felt fear, then. He raised his head and blurted all of his thoughts out to Wing, who sat patiently and nodded, but didn't interrupt.

Then, Wing snorted, and started laughing silently, hunching over yet again and wrapping his arms around his middle. Asgore sighed and waited; he was no longer offended by Wing's constant inappropriate laughing fits, as he learnt early that they would be explained not long after.

Sure enough, Wing managed to get out, “There's absolutely no chance of her losing interest in you, unless you change who you are completely over the course of that year into something you are not.”

Asgore wasn't reassured. “Is...? Do you think that is likely for me...? Am I that fick--?”

Yet another smack. Then, “No, you _moron_. Do you even know yourself at _all_?!”

Asgore blushed, rubbing the back of his head. That was true. He'd been in love with Wing for a year before he even admitted it. If love was not only already admitted, but reciprocated, a year would be measly when it came to his loyalty.

“I... am scared,” he muttered, finally admitting it. “I want to be what Toriel needs, what she deserves, but is that even possible to learn in just a year? And that's not even mentioning the fact that, eventually, I’d have to be what our entire people deserve...”

He reached up and brushed the tears from his eyes, barely aware that he did so, let alone that he was weeping at all.

Wing sighed, then touched his shoulder for a moment. When Asgore looked up, Wing smiled and said, “You already are, just by having those thoughts and feelings alone.”

And at that, Asgore lunged for him and hugged him, his tears worsening – especially when he felt Wing hug onto him gently and pat his back. But he didn't pull away until Asgore calmed down, and even then, he hesitated before he did.

“I know you're scared,” he said. “But I know you needn't be. I know _you_ , Asgore. You're probably exactly what we need to make things balance, again.”

“Please, Wag,” Asgore answered, his voice small. “Please, come with me. _Please_. Don't let this tear us apart, please? Nothing has changed, nothing!”

Wing smiled. “Untrue. Circumstances have changed. But I imagine you are right when it comes to you and I.” He nodded. “If there is some way I can, Asgore, all you need to do is ask me, and I’ll be at your side. You're my dearest friend, and I love you. How could I not?”

Asgore stared at him, then grabbed him once more into a tight hug. This time, Wing held back onto him just as tight, and it lingered for quite some time.

* * *

As night crept up onto the world, Asgore walked alongside it on his way home. He barely noticed anything around him, his mind already so far away that he almost felt like he could never catch up, despite it being his own mind.

Therefore, it took him a moment to notice that the front lawn of his home was occupied with a carriage, and that it was one with the Delta Rune upon it.

And just like that, even without knowing the circumstances, Asgore just lit up, his eyes widening and his face breaking into a smile, before his feet broke into a run and had him tumbling into the front door, looking around expectantly and with a racing heart—

\--and then he tripped over the shoes in the foyer and fell ass-over-teakettle to the floor, winding himself.

Distantly, he heard soft laughter, before he suddenly felt a familiar touch upon his cheek. He opened his eyes, and grinned, reaching up and holding that hand in place.

And Toriel grinned back, leaning down and kissing his nose gently. “What an entrance,” she greeted him with.

“What can I say?” he wondered, nuzzling her hand. “Your laughter is the ultimate siren song.”

Toriel's eyes sparked, and with another kiss to his forehead, she helped him up to his feet, keeping hold of his hands.

“What are you doing here...?” he wondered, completely overwhelmed. All he could see was her, despite knowing they weren't alone.

Toriel squeezed his hands. “Welcome to the Engagement,” she replied.

When he looked up at last, he found his parents standing in the receiving room, wearing their best clothes and jewellery – but also wearing smiles.

And beside them, looking almost as casual but likewise very dressed up (as was Toriel), where the King and Queen of Monsters.

And Asgore suddenly wobbled on his feet, aware of how stupid he just made himself look, how shabby and messy he looked, and how he'd just flirted with their only child right in front of them.

Toriel suddenly grabbed him, leaning into his side and wrapping her arms around him. “Easy,” she called softly.

He shook his head, trying to clear out the desire to faint - or pretend he was dead. Toriel's touch certainly helped with that, and with it, he managed to shake it off completely.

When he did, he turned to her and smiled gratefully, and she returned it, hers a trace coy. She stood up on tiptoes and took hold of his face, and before he could protest, she kissed his lips. He suddenly forgot everything, and wrapped his arms around here returning it with both affection and gratitude.

And unseen by both, their parents stared, not with shock or embarrassment, but by how easy and completely thoughtless those few minutes had been, and what it meant.

Asgore then blushed and pulled away, looking up at their parents, and Toriel smiled but did, too, settling back onto her heels and taking hold of his hand.

“This is Asgore,” Toriel then said, smiling.

And with that, the evening began.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws a poorly-written chapter at you all and slumps away*

**Chapter Seventeen**

Toriel was incredibly amused.

The way Asgore had tumbled in, expecting to see her – and tumbling into her arms the moment he did – had pleased her so much that she couldn't stop smiling, even as they waited for him to come back. He'd insisted on going to get cleaned up and properly dressed, and while Toriel protested, their parents did not, so he ran as soon as he realised, bright red – even through his fur.

“He's adorable,” Alexandrine suddenly said, surprising everyone and breaking the reverie of silence. Toriel beamed at her, flushing pink with her pleasure, and she saw that Asgore's parents were equally flattered.

“He's such a good lad,” Goryn agreed, smiling bright. “We have truly been blessed with such a son.”

Toriel turned to her shyly, and found that Goryn was already gazing at her, her eyes warm. Toriel blushed red, her smile flickering with surprise; she hadn't expected such a warm reaction from the woman whose son she was about to steal.

Silas, when she looked at him, however, looked very, very coldly at her. Clearly, he was not happy with her theft, and he said nothing, making her look away with another blush – one of shame.

She didn't want to destroy a family, or have people she wanted as family start out by hating her. She wanted to prove that she wasn't a flighty, drunk idiot, and she damn well knew what she was about.

But it was hard to prove that when you announce your intentions of mating someone after mere days of knowing them.

And this was why Toriel was ashamed: because, in that way, Silas was right, and had every reason to hate her for it.

She felt her father suddenly take her hand into his, and she calmed down a little, looking up at him imploringly for help.

Edgar smiled. “We were pleased to discover that _you_ were Asgore's family,” he began amicably. “We've been patrons of your excellent tea for decades, now.”

Silas and Goryn both blinked in surprise, both sitting up a bit more, and oddly, again, Toriel felt ashamed; she felt like they should’ve already known.

“We're honoured, Your Majesty,” Goryn then admitted, her hands fumbling with one of Silas's. “We would love to be able to continue doing so, regardless of what this year brings.”

That was an odd thing to say.

“You will,” Edgar replied cheerfully. “Nothing will impede business between us, even a serious situation like this.”

That was even worse.

Toriel glanced at her father sharply, but he was now looking away from her. She let go of his hand, and while he did notice, he barely reacted.

“I'm sorry,” she broke in, just as Goryn was about to speak. “But is there something I’m not privy to?”

Silence met her words, and she looked between all four of them, feeling the blood rush to her face in anger, now. All four looked, to some degree, slightly guilty.

“You expect this to fail,” Toriel realised, her voice quiet.

But that was when Asgore suddenly rushed back into the room, his hair hastily combed back into a braid, wearing traditional tartan and kilt. He blushed, looking at Toriel, before he went over and sat with his parents.

“Howdy, Your Majesties,” he murmured – then winced, blushing redder. Goryn rolled her eyes, and Silas sighed.

But they took it in stride, and Alexandrine replied, “Good evening, Asgore,” with a smile. “It's nice to finally meet you.”

Asgore was speechless at that, his eyes going to Toriel's in panic, and she smiled gently, blinking slowly; he needed to breathe. He nodded and did so, lowering his eyes to the floor.

Toriel, however, was still angry. “So, am I wrong?” she wondered. “Is this a farce? Are you doing this to humiliate Asgore and I?”

Asgore's head jerked up in shock, his face paling and his eyes widening – and darkening with dread. He looked at his parents, who looked away.

Toriel looked at her own – and blinked, peering closer. Alexandrine met her gaze, and in her expression, she saw the truth: while the Dreemurrs were sincere, Asgore's parents were wary and doubtful. The Dreemurrs had been humouring them when they'd expressed their concern, but _they_ hadn't realised yet.

Toriel grabbed back her father's hand, and she noticed him smile faintly for a mere moment, confirming her assessment.

Asgore was now staring at his parents – mostly his father – with visible hurt. He kept silent, but Toriel knew: he _was_ hurt, and was trying not to cry. She could relate; the inside of her cheek hurt from her biting it to keep calm, herself.

“Look,” Asgore then said, his voice very small in his attempts to keep calm. “I know you think I’m a ditz, sometimes, and yes, I agree, but do you really think I’d be so flighty about something like _this_?!”

Goryn's face softened, but Silas's merely hardened. “Yes,” he snapped, surprising both Toriel and Asgore – and even Goryn, she saw. “Do you not remember how much you suffered the _last_ time you were in love?!”

“And that ended amicably, and no harm was done!” Asgore protested.

Toriel's parents were looking at her in question, but she shook her head slightly; not only was this not the time, but it wasn't her place to explain.

“Also... also...” Asgore flushed bright red, and his eyes welled up. “I... I never even thought about marriage, then! Or...” He coughed. “Or what a marriage could _do_ , or _mean_ , or what it would _make_ me!”

Toriel's heart ached, and she stared at him, her own eyes stinging, now.

“Tori-Toriel... _she's_ not faking it, either,” Asgore continued, though she did note his hesitation. “So if that's what you're worried about, too, then stop. She’s made it clear she means it, and she's not going to let me forget about my duty as your son.”

Toriel's parents were watching Asgore keenly, now, their eyes sharp and their ears clearly trained on every single word he spoke. The longer he did, the brighter their eyes became.

“I'm so very _rarely_ reckless and impetuous like this,” Asgore went on. “So you know that if I _am_ , it clearly means something to me, and immensely, too. I _never_ take things lightly. I'm well aware that this is the single most important decision of my life, and how much my life will change with it.”

He coughed again, then lowered his head into his hands and hid his face. Toriel moved to sit next to him, but Edgar's hand tightened on hers, stopping her.

Because Goryn was speaking, now. She leaned over and slid her well-muscled arm over her son's shoulders, and she murmured, “We want you to be sure.”

“With every single respect,” Silas added, this time to the Dreemurrs. “We didn't mean to anger anyone. But we accepted your invitation with the full knowledge that nothing will come of it.”

Edgar went pale with anger, so Alexandrine stepped in. “So you made a ruse that involved the Royal Family, why? To not only humiliate your son, but the family he wishes to marry into?”

Asgore lowered down further, shaking his head slowly. Goryn rubbed his shoulders and whispered something that Toriel could not make out, but it had Asgore looking up from behind his hands in tear-stained surprise. When she nodded with a smile, Asgore hugged her tight, clinging to her and weeping softly.

“What did you just do?” Silas sighed, glancing at his wife with clear anger and suffering.

“I told him the truth, whether you agree or not,” she snapped back, surprising him. “You're the only one who disagrees, and we're monsters; it's majority or nothing else. This Engagement will go through, for an entire year. If we find our children are not able to remain together, we will dissolve the contract with no harm done.”

Her eyes were now on Alexandrine, who looked back carefully, her face blank. “Reasonable?” Goryn added.

“More than,” Alexandrine replied, smiling at last.

With it, the entire room seemed to be able to calm down – save Silas, who got up and left, then went outside, shutting the back door loudly behind him.

Asgore emerged from his mother's arms, coughing weakly and trying to clean his face. “I-I'm sorry for my behaviour. I-I'm not childish, I just...”

“You cry,” Edgar replied softly, smiling. “Believe it or not, Asgore, we are all monster, and we all cry. We're not humans; just because you are male does not mean you are not allowed to cry.”

Asgore swallowed hard, turning to him, his eyes blazing both orange and blue. “Yes,” he agreed. “Your Majesties, _that_ is my biggest problem: I’m heavily influenced by the humans, their cultures, and their constraints.”

Goryn was staring at her son in shock, but he didn't notice.

“I've had to work with them for over a year, in a job I truly do love, but would love better if not for that influence,” he tumbled on, his cheeks going red.

Toriel's own face went red, and she shifted a little.

“I want to change,” Asgore admitted, his eyes switching colours. “I want to use that knowledge to bind our peoples, to finally amalgamate the two cultures to what they _used_ to be.”

“But, Asgore,” Edgar replied calmly, “they are mostly angry _about_ that amalgamation; the children from such unions, remember? They are deemed neither human nor monster by their human people.”

“I want to change _that_ , too,” he agreed, nodding. “And I want... I want people who are smart, intelligent, and wise, to be seen past their disabilities – or perhaps embraced because of them – instead of just shoving them aside in menial jobs because of a lack of understanding them.”

“Wag,” Toriel broke in gently, and Asgore turned to her, his face lighting up and beaming at her, nodding.

“Yes!” he agreed. “My friend, Wing Din Gaster! He's so smart, and he wants to be a doctor, but he can't afford it, as well as cannot be taken seriously by the humans – something he needs to be a doctor at all – because he's mute.”

Toriel glanced at her parents, then, unable to keep a gloating smirk from her face.

_Perhaps romance makes him faint, and perhaps he's silly and cries a lot, but dammit, I know he's the right one._

_He's the only one._

_He's the only one I want._

“I have no prior engagements,” Toriel broke in again, significantly. Her parents gave her mixed looks: her mother rolled her eyes and patted her arm, and Edgar looked grumpy and nodded. “And I want this man, who is similarly free.”

Asgore blushed, beaming at her, again, and she grinned. “And now you both know a _fraction_ of why,” she added.

“Indeed,” Alexandrine agreed with a smile, one that finally reached her eyes – and made Asgore relax, just a little. “And we have no objections.”

“ _He'll_ come around,” Goryn said, when everyone looked at her questioningly. “I'll make sure he does. But you have _my_ full support.”

Asgore stared up at her, shocked to tears, and she smiled and nodded.

Toriel bit her lip, then said, “Thank you. I... I know this will cause a great deal of change, but the rewards will be worth it, regardless of the results. We'll make sure of it – and make sure you've earned it, too.”

Goryn smiled wider, a relaxed one, this time. “I like the sounds of that,” she agreed.

Alexandrine then surprised Toriel: she turned to her and said, “You need to leave, _now_.” Her eyes them went to Asgore. “You as well. What _we_ discuss now must be in private.”

Toriel frowned. “But, where are we supposed to go?” she demanded, inwardly hoping it was close enough to eavesdrop.

“Away,” Edgar replied knowingly.

Toriel scowled but nodded, rising to her feet. Asgore did, too, looking confused, but she held out her hand to him, and he grabbed it gratefully, smiling.

“ _Not_ the backyard,” warned Goryn, and Asgore blushed but nodded; he was clearly still hurt by his father's behaviour, and wanted to avoid him as much as possible. Clearly, his mother agreed.

“I know where to go,” Toriel then said, as they left. Asgore blinked at her hopefully, looking desperate to laugh, and she smiled. “I know _exactly_ where to go.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Eighteen**

“Oh!” Asgore cried, before he burst into laughter.

It felt so good to be laughing again, honestly, and he would've welcomed any excuse, but this was, luckily, genuinely funny, and thus felt extra-good.

“Where _else_ would a well-dressed Princess and her fiancé spend their time?” Toriel wondered mischievously, her smile so wide that her canines flashed in the twilight.

Indeed; they now stood in front of Geoffrey's.

How they got there was a mystery to Asgore, who only remembered a blurred fog of disappointment and frustration dogging at his steps, as Toriel led him confidently and without letting go of his hand.

Would he _ever_ be able to repay his gratitude for these kindnesses? These seemingly small gestures, that added up into something warm and soothing?

He doubted it.

But damned if he wasn't willing to try.

“You're nice and fancy,” Toriel observed, squeezing his hand. “And so am I. We'll fit right in.”

Asgore snorted. “Like a monster in the Human Chambers.”

Toriel grinned at him, her eyes glinting, and he returned it, unable to resist. He could tell, by her eyes alone, that she was angered by his parents – mostly Silas – and their reaction to their engagement.

But clearly, she was able to look past it all, if it meant spending time with him.

 _And,_ he realised with a pang to his heart, _she damn well knows how depressed I feel, too, and clearly wants me to cheer up, too – even if I am the only one of us that does._

That thought made him take hold of her hand tenderly between his, then rest it at the crook of his elbow, one he held daintily, like a butler would. But instead of laughing, like he'd expected, Toriel smiled up at him, her face softening, and her hand squeezed his arm gently.

“Thank you,” she murmured, leaning closer to him, and taking a moment to actually lean against his side, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment.

He blushed; he had no idea why she was thanking him, but he leaned down and kissed her forehead anyway, just because he wanted to. She smiled wider up at him when he pulled back, and he felt dizzy.

 _It's going to take far longer than a year for me to be able to be normal in front of this woman, isn't it?_ he wondered internally – then answered quite happily with _Yes, and you better make it the best._

It was a strangely bittersweet thing to think, but he acknowledged it and smiled, swallowing hard but still unable to speak.

“Do you not want to go in?” she wondered after a moment of silence.

“I do,” he corrected. “I'm just nervous. Last time, I was just Asgore. Now, I’m… something.”

Toriel grinned up at him, her other hand going to his upper arm. “Isn't it great?” she wondered.

He nodded before he even thought about it, then winced. “No, wait, I don't mean it like... I'm _not_ with you to be _something_ , I’m not--,”

Toriel had slipped closer, reached a hand up and over his cheek, and pulled him down for a kiss upon his lips. He melted, his eyes closing and his whole body relaxing, and she giggled against his lips before pulling away.

“I know what you are, and what you are not,” Toriel replied, stroking his cheek. “You needn't remind me.”

Asgore nodded, speechless.

“Shall we?” she wondered, sliding her hands around his arm again. He repeated the gesture, and together, they strolled into the cacophony and music.

It was only later that he would remember that, indeed: there was a time that Toriel didn't need reminding as to who he was – and was not.

* * *

“What the hell are you wearing?!”

Toriel sniffed, but Asgore blushed and looked down at his feet, embarrassed. Compared to everyone, they were practically dressed like royalty.

He blinked; no, they really _were_ dressed like royalty – because they were. Even in his somewhat-faded plaid and kilt, he was still dressed as royalty. It was official, now.

He was almost royalty.

He went even redder, desperately holding onto Toriel's hand. He felt weird, both overwhelmed and... almost contented, as if this had always been the plan.

 _Is destiny real?_ he found himself wondering.

“Shut up, you idiot,” Toriel replied easily. “Or I'll tell Blaise you were rude to me.”

“I'm always rude to you.”

“We talk a lot.”

Asgore laughed, surprising himself. With affection, he snuck closer and kissed Toriel's cheek, and she looked up at him and grinned – then kissed his lips in reply.

“Stop. Or I'll advertise and charge for it.”

Toriel pulled away and seethed at Geoffrey – who merely smirked. “You've no right to sell my Gorey like that,” she replied easily, flashing her fangs at him.

Asgore smiled brightly when he heard that, and he kissed her, again – on her lips. But she reached up and grabbed his face before he could pull away, and immediately, he felt the tip of her tongue snake out and brush along his lips.

He sat down, hard – in more ways than one. It broke the kiss, and he landed on a stool, but he felt dizzy all the same.

Toriel only made it worse: she sat on his lap and got rather comfortable, then relaxed and threw an arm around his neck, her hand stroking his hair slowly.

She turned back to Geoffrey and said, “Food, please.”

Asgore looked up – and blushed even more.

Geoffrey was staring at him in shock, his mouth open and his flames flickering bright. He didn't look disgusted or offended, but shocked.

“G,” Toriel called, waving her hand in his face.

“The clothes,” he answered. “You're...” He turned to her. “Are you fucking _engaged_ , you hussy?!”

Asgore felt a flash of rare anger, and was trying to stand up before he even realised it, and he only did when Toriel suddenly settled all of her weight on his lap and hugged him tight.

“He's teasing,” she whispered, kissing his ear. Asgore nodded, shooting a glare at the bartender, before he closed his eyes and hugged her back, deciding to pretend only she existed, right now.

“You _are_!” Geoffrey cried. “Hey, everyone, _shut the fuck up!”_

“Geoffrey--!” Toriel protested – but she was grinning wildly, her cheeks pink.

Everyone took a moment to shut up, but it was easy when they saw who their bartender was pointing to – and how they were dressed, and acting.

“The Princess is getting hitched!” Geoffrey shouted. “Everything is fucking free til midnight! Make me poor!”

Immediately, the entire bar erupted into applause and cheers – and catcalling, something Asgore hid from in the crook of Toriel's soft neck, reaching up and draping her ear over his face, in turn making her giggle and kiss his cheek.

“I told you,” she whispered. “When our people see my happiness, they know it's real. Do you?”

“Yes,” he replied at once. “I trust you, Tori.”

Toriel smiled shyly. “I'm honoured, Gorey.”

It was then that he realised what she'd just said: _our_ people.

_Our people._

He let the words slip into his blood and flow to his heart, wondering if it would paralyse him with fear.

It was an immense responsibility, and those two words said it all. They would be a people he shared with Toriel – who would be his _wife_.

When he felt the words reach his soul, he closed his eyes and pulled Toriel closer, stopping her in mid-sentence, her attention now completely his. She touched his cheek, and he leaned into her palm.

Because he didn't feel fear. He didn't feel paralysed. He didn't go deaf with terror.

He felt... _excited_. _Challenged_. Eager to prove himself.

Eager to prove himself _worthy_ of their people.

“Gorey,” she whispered, her hand going to his ear.

He shivered with pleasure, smiling, and he opened his eyes. He reached up, held her face, and kissed her lips.

This time, he made it linger. And to his delight, she growled and pushed close, her arms going around his neck as she kissed back.

When silence fell again, this time, Asgore didn't care. He merely kept kissing Toriel.

His lover. His dear friend.

His fiancée. His princess.

His queen.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW :P

**Chapter Nineteen**

When Asgore slumped against the table and started snoring, Toriel realised the night was over.

She wasn't too sad about it. They'd had a great time, laughing and singing and sharing delicious food and drink. It felt like she was a kid again, only with a best friend beside her, one who held her in his lap as she cheered and threw her arms up in the air – and cheered with her.

They'd kissed so much, and yet Toriel was a hopeless addict, always diving in for more – and Asgore was always moving to meet her, matching her intensity, be it minute or blazing.

She loved him.

She loved him so much.

A year was too long to wait.

She had to, she knew it, but she hated it.

She leaned down to poke Asgore awake, but froze, a thought following her previous one.

 _He might not want me in a year,_ she realised. _Really, he's already had so much of me, so why would he wait a year at all? He could leave now._

_Why hasn't he?_

But then, she sat down beside him and rested her chin on her folded arms, eyeing him a trace drunkenly.

He was passed out, his cheek rested against one arm that was sprawled out straight upon the table. The other was resting on the table, twitching a little.

It had been holding Toriel's hand for most of the night, and clearly, he could feel he was no longer.

She looked up at his face, unaware of the smile that crept up on her. His hair was messy and loose; she liked it around his face, liked how soft and long it was, and she kept pulling it free. Eventually, he gave up, and she was thrilled, even now.

His head was tilted in a way that ensured safety from his long, curved horns, and she eyed them, interested. Her own were small, like spikes, while his were so long and curved. They felt like claws did, only thicker. She liked them; they gave him a bit of toughness, like his horns should be feared, not admired.

He was smiling in his sleep, drooling a little on his arm. He looked so relaxed and happy, and she felt relieved; all she'd wanted was to cheer him up and make him forget that his father was angry with him.

He didn't deserve that. He deserved all the love in the world.

It was that smile that calmed her down, as did his twitching fingers. Because she realised, with both, that he was smitten with her, perhaps almost as much as she was with him. And it seemed unlikely to die in a mere year.

She reached out and brushed a bit of hair from his face. He had a fuzzy face, like her own, but interestingly, he also had yellow facial hair, the same colour as his hair. She only knew this now because he clearly hadn't removed it in a while, and before, he'd been the monster equivalent of clean-shaven.

But Asgore didn't shave; he used his fire magic to kill the hairs at the root with heat, and he could brush them out easily after.

Her fingers trailed down around his lips. _I'd love to see him with it, she realised. A moustache, a beard, whatever._

She was more curious, now, than ever before, and wanted to learn more and more about him.

When she traced is lips, he twitched, then pressed them together, tickled by her touch. His eyes opened slowly, their colours dark with drink, but he smiled warmly the moment they locked onto hers, and suddenly, both were blue.

“Hullo,” he murmured, his free hand slipping up her arm and curving around her cheek, beneath her ear.

She smiled wider. “Hullo,” she agreed. “Shall we get out of here?”

“Mm,” Asgore agreed, nodding. “I'm very drunk.”

“I doubt that,” Toriel replied; he _had_ been, true, but he'd also been sleeping for almost an hour, so he was more sober than before. “But we should head out.”

“Late?” he wondered, raising his head and shaking it a little.

“Sort of. Late enough.” She certainly was used to staying out for later and longer, but she preferred to focus on him. “Let's go.”

Asgore blinked, his eyes suddenly clearing, and he blinked hard. “Tori, I have a really stupid and careless idea,” he admitted, starting to blush.

She was delighted. “Tell me!”

“Uh,” he replied. “Outside?”

She agreed, and after chatting with Geoffrey and paying her bill, she caught up with Asgore outside.

Immediately, the cold air and the soft quiet woke her up and relaxed her, and she smiled and breathed in the crisp fall air.

Then, she felt his arms go around her, swing her around, and then pull her close. She grinned, her arms going around Asgore's neck, and he purred, nuzzling her cheek before kissing it.

“It’s nice out,” she murmured, nuzzling his cheek in return and making him smile, one hand going up to her hair and stroking it. “I love fall.”

“Mm,” he agreed. “It's fitting, us to meet during a season we both adore.”

“Yes,” she agreed, her tail wagging a little. “My favourite things, all in one season...”

Asgore held her tighter, buried his face into her shoulder, and whispered the last thing she'd _ever_ expect him to say:

“Let's make love under the stars, Tori.”

She jolted, her blood flashing hot and rushing to several places at once, making her feel dizzy and silly.

“What a marvellous idea,” she breathed out, grinning happily. Her eyes went up, and the canopy of stars glinted at her, as if challenging her to impress them.

Asgore jolted, then, pulling his face away and looking at her. She could tell, in this dim lighting, that he was scarlet.

“Really?” he cried, taking hold of her face. “Tori, really? You would? With me?”

“With no one else,” she corrected.

“Tori!” he cried, picking her up and swinging her around in a thrilled but wobbly circle; she laughed, clinging to him and letting her feet stay off the ground.

“How are you _real_ , Tori?” he then wondered, setting her back onto her feet – but keeping hold of her, so there was no space between them. “How are _you_ with _me_?”

Toriel shrugged. “I'm real because my parents made me,” she replied. “And they raised me well. And I’m with you, because you didn't see a princess, but a silly girl playing in the leaves.”

Asgore sniffled, then, surprising her. She peered up at him, and he kissed her lips, his hands going to her shoulders and gripping tight. She smiled and kissed back, touching his forearms, and suddenly, he pulled away and grunted, shutting his eyes and pressing his forehead against hers, panting. She closed her eyes, in a similar state, but she didn't let go of him, and he didn't let go of her.

Toriel then pushed close, as close as possible, and kissed his lips, again, her blood suddenly too hot. Her arms went around his neck, her hands buried in his hair, and her tongue darted out, licking his lips apart and sliding it between. He growled, his hands sliding down her back and cupping around her rear, before moving down to the backs of her thighs. She raised one leg, and he grabbed it from the back of her knee, so she did the same with the other, and suddenly, she was no longer on the ground, but wrapped around her fiancé, so close that she could feel how hard he was, despite the alcohol.

“Where?” he gasped out between kisses, and for a moment, her brain spluttered and came up with nothing.

Therefore, it was the only reason she could think of, when she suddenly blurted out, “Behind the bar.”

Asgore nodded, gathering her close and carrying her, impressing her with his strength. She was not a slender woman, and therefore his ease with her was not only impressive, but rather comforting.

They stumbled, moving quickly behind the bar, finding it thick with shadows and eerily quiet. They couldn't hear anything inside, so they figured it was safe.

Toriel called up a ball of light and cast it above them, so that they could see each other, but still dim enough not to catch anyone's attention.

Then, suddenly, she found herself pressed against the back wall of the bar, and Asgore pushed up against her, no air between them, and she wrapped around him tight, showing him no mercy. It drove them both mad; they kissed, feverishly, while their hands moved over each other's curves and lines, neither able to keep their bodies still through it all.

“Gorey,” Toriel mewled out, feeling dizzy and desperate and so, so wet. “Please... _please_...” Her hands slipped under his kilt, then under the shorts he wore for modesty (and shyness, she learnt later), before her fingertips skirted over his backside, loving how firm and generous it was, how fuzzy and soft...

And how it made him snort out a giggle, as he was ticklish. She giggled, too, giving both cheeks a squeeze, and he pushed his hips against her, making her eyes close and pulling a soft groan from her throat.

She never knew sex could be like _this_. Sure, she'd read racy novels and heard dirty exchanges between her Guards, but she never really took them seriously, assuming they were just teasing the virgin princess.

She now realised she was not only laughably wrong, but they'd underestimated how fantastic it felt.

And they weren't even _fucking_ , yet.

On that thought, Toriel slipped her hands between them, one going to his cheek, the other, beneath those shorts and around his cock. He shuddered, burying his face into her neck and biting there gently, and she grinned and gasped in delight, moving her hand in time with his hips.

Then, he surprised her; one hand reached down and struggled to hike up her robes, fumbling and crying out softly with each stroke of her hand. She thought it wouldn't work that way, despite helping him pull the hems above her hips.

But Asgore pushed his hand down her underwear, slipped his fingers between her folds, and stroked along her clit, moving his fingers in time with her own.

For a moment, it was enough, especially when they kissed. The rhythm of their bodies were in concert as their hands worked each other, and both were unable to think of anything else.

But soon, when she did feel herself close, she gritted her teeth and pulled away from him. “Asgore,” she whispered, pulling her hand away and tugging on his shorts, trying to pull them off. “Asgore, _please_...”

She felt his cheeks burn, as he'd pressed his face against her neck, and he reached down – and tugged on her underwear. She shifted, about to move down so she could take them off, but he stopped her. Instead, he slipped them down past her hips, then pushed against her, his other hand under his shorts – before pulling his cock free of them, pushing his kilt up with shaking fingers.

The sight of his cock made her weak, and she squirmed, tugging on him hard. He pushed her against the wall, spread her legs a bit more so he could get close enough, and carefully, he slid the head of his cock along her slick and hot folds.

She moaned out his name, tilting her head back. “More,” she begged. “Asgore, _please_ , don't make me cuss...”

Asgore laughed softly, before kissing her lips – and pushing his cock into her cunt, the gesture so easy and so simple, yet so incredible that they both clung to each other, Toriel's legs gripping around his hips tight, her heels digging into his back, urging him to move.

“Tori,” he whispered, delighting her and bringing her closer. He said her name like a precious thing, a present, a song...

And with it, he started to move, and she was his, all his, only his.

For life.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty**

Asgore had never felt so happy, and this was mere hours from feeling _miserable_.

When Toriel moved her head and kissed his lips, she shifted down, arching her back a little, and his eyes rolled up; it brought him deeper within her, and she cried out at the same time, making him feel silly and drunk, again.

But he was sober, now. How could he not be? How could _anyone_ stay drunk, while hiding in the shadows of a bar, their only light a flickering flame, one that varied in brightness depending on Toriel's concentration?

While pressed against a wall, inside of her, feeling her both physically and emotionally?

While, with each thrust of his hips, he felt his happiness increase, alongside his growing pleasure?

“Oh, Asgore...!” Toriel hissed out between her teeth, her eyes squeezed shut and her head thrown back, gasping for breath. “Up, _up_!”

He shifted, grabbing her hips, and angled his own, so that his cock moved the way she needed. When she laughed, he knew his aim was true, and he buried his face into her neck, biting along it slowly.

He was speechless, but not silent. Every single time they moved together, he uttered a soft sound, almost always at the same time as her. Her hands were buried into his hair, and often, she would move her head down and kiss his lips, her cries muffled but somehow sweeter for it.

Asgore closed his eyes, tight, groaning long and low. He dug his claws into the wall behind Toriel, his other arm around her as they fucked, and fucked _hard_. She felt so good, so perfect, so... _so_...

“Mmm...!” Toriel suddenly purred out, before jerking her head back and clinging to him, her hips pushing up against his urgently. “Asgore...!” Her voice was so high-pitched, so soaked with need, and he almost lost it.

But Toriel did, first. Her claws bit into his scalp, and she buried her face into his shoulder, her fangs sinking in through his clothes as she moaned. She became clumsy, jerky, before her eyes squeezed closed and she keened out, her body stiffening and her cunt heating up and clenching around him hard as she came.

Above them, for the entire duration, the ball of light flared bright, and Asgore watched her, happy to be able to with such clarity.

The fact that her magic responded to her orgasms made her very endearing to him - _adorable_ , really.

She cried out, over and over, especially when he pushed against her and slowed down.

“That's good!” she gasped out, sounding shocked. “Aah...! Oh, _Gorey_...!” She stiffened against him, keening out again, before she suddenly went limp, gasping for breath so hard that it was vocal.

The light flickered, then died back down to its normal brightness.

Then, before he could ask her, she hissed out, “Keep going.”

He grinned, and she grinned back, her eyes glittering and bright. He held her close, kissed her, and started moving, again, his eyes fluttering closed when he felt how good she felt, so warm and slick and... and just...

… _her_...

Toriel kissed him deeper, her hands holding his face, and he moved faster, unable to hold back. She purred, and he felt her tighten a little around him, something that made him stagger and gasp – something that she echoed with surprise.

“Faster?” he wondered breathlessly.

“Yes,” she pleaded, her voice tiny and her hands shaking.

He grabbed hold of the backs of her knees again, then pushed her up and thrust harder into her, moving fast, but not too fast. He was a fast learner, and he was quickly starting to understand not just his own body's needs, but Toriel's.

And it was so easy, so perfect, so _wonderful_...

“Shit,” Toriel suddenly whispered against his lips, her claws digging into his cheeks a little before she moved them to his shoulders. He opened his eyes, and he saw her eyes roll up and her face redden. “Shit, shit, _shit_...!” she kept whispering, in time with each of his thrusts.

But she was grinning. And their light source began to flicker bright, again.

“Again? Really? That can happen?” he wondered, absolutely mystified by this. Sure, he could sometimes maybe fire off two rounds, on a good day (or in the right company), but never as close together like this, and certainly not without rest.

“Yes, _yes_ , again, _again_!” she agreed, her face back in his shoulder and her hands in his hair.

Asgore's eyes closed, shuddering with pleasure. He was so close, himself, and last time, they'd almost come together, like in stories.

Was _that_ possible, too?

He learnt the answer very quickly.

“ _Asgore...!”_ Toriel suddenly keened out, the sound of his name drawn out like a moan – because it _was_. She writhed against him, crying out without words, now, and when that happened, he staggered, his eyes flaring open.

Not only could he feel her coming, again, but it felt so good that he followed her, pushing her up against that wall hard and just letting go, his eyes closing and his body flooding with bliss.

 _“Tori,”_ he heard himself cry, over and over, with each wave of pleasure. And he heard her answer with his name, her voice weak and soft but thick with pleasure of her own. She stroked his hair, brushing it from his sweaty – and, he realised with embarrassment, teary – cheeks.

They kissed, and when he touched her face, he felt his heart ache with tenderness.

She was weeping, too.

They didn't move for quite some time, intent on just kissing and caressing, all without words. They didn't need words. They didn't want words.

After a moment, however, Toriel whispered, “Gorey, my ass hurts.”

Asgore snorted out a surprised laugh, and she giggled. He moved away, making them both murmur softly from the separation, before he gently lowered her down to her feet.

“We didn't even _look_ at the stars,” she sighed, fixing her underwear and lowering her robes, before smoothing them out.

Her hands shook.

When he'd fixed his own clothes, he took her hands into his, and she looked up, blushing. And again, before he could ask, she squeezed his hands and whispered, “That was... _intense_...” She smiled weakly. “I have no legs.”

Asgore smiled at her. “I'll carry you home.”

She laughed – then paused.

“Gorey,” she squeaked out. “Our parents.”

He felt the blood leave his face, and with a shared nod, they held hands and started heading back to Asgore’s home, as fast as their shaking legs could manage.

* * *

The carriage was still there, and the lamps were still lit.

“Oh, dear,” Asgore sighed.

“Fuck it,” Toriel replied. “Let's get it over with.”

When they went inside, they found all four of their parents sitting in the receiving room, looking very tired but oddly amicable.

Even Silas looked oddly... calm. Relaxed.

Before they were noticed, Toriel hissed to him, “Did your mom get your dad off while we were gone? Why is he so relaxed?”

“Like either of us are ones to talk,” he replied, smiling archly at her, and she grinned and nudged his ribs with her elbow, making him squawk and laugh.

That got their parents' attention, and from there, it was a blur for Asgore. He _tried_ to listen, but his mind would wander, especially when Toriel looked at him with those eyes...

But soon, he started to understand: Silas had come around, sort of. He was still very sceptical and wary of the marriage, and was still iffy about accepting help with his and Goryn's jobs.

Yet he still admitted, “You _do_ look happy. And a year _is_ a long time. It should be time enough for you both to figure it out.”

And everyone agreed, just like they'd hoped. Just like that.

By the time the Dreemurrs were making their way to the front door, both Toriel and Asgore stared at each other with joy. When their parents distracted each other with parting words, they darted close and kissed, then hugged tight.

“I love you,” Toriel whispered.

“I love you,” Asgore agreed.

Then, they were gone, and Asgore was alone with his parents.

Parents, who moved close and hugged him tight, who gave him some calming tea, and who kissed him goodnight with love.

He fell asleep that night, the last night he was merely Asgore, and dreamt of nothing but happiness.

And when he awoke, a new chapter began, and he greeted it with determination.

**END OF PART ONE: FALL**


	22. Chapter 22

**First Interlude**

Asgore sighed, leaning back and cracking his back with a grunt. Before him was a stack of boxes, the last of his belongings, from both the Palace and his own home.

He didn't have a lot, which was probably odd for someone as old as him, but then again, he didn't really need that much, so it was fitting.

He smiled, then sat down on the couch, sighing and lying back as his muscles relaxed, making him feel better instantly. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing a moment of rest for his sore back, before he leaned forward and picked up his phone from the coffee table.

 _Phones are so weird_ , he sighed, realising he'd had it on silent and had missed several messages.

There wasn't much to do at the moment, in this period of adjustment, and while he knew everyone else was practically glued to the surface, he'd hesitated the longest.

At first, it was because he wanted to ensure everyone moved safely, and were welcome. He stayed behind with the others who were scared the longest, until they, too, had braved the slope.

And while Asgore certainly visited, he hadn't thought about moving up there at all. Not even when he was alone, _all_ alone, in the Underground.

He checked the messages, smiling when he saw Undyne's: “ _Hurry up, pack your shit, move up here, I’m bored, Dad!”_

 _“Yes, I just finished,”_ Asgore texted back, though he was chuckling; Undyne always cheered him up. _“Although it's very silly, Undyne. I don't think I can go through with it. I'm imposing on you both!”_

While he waited for a reply, he went to the next message – and snorted, laughing quite earnestly.

It had been sent a minute after Undyne's, and it simply said, _“Don't even say it, please,”_ from Alphys.

She'd known he would protest and beat him to the punch, and he was delighted _._

 _“Alright,”_ he replied to her _. “I'll stay with you for a few days, but let me store my things here, for now, until I find a place of my own.”_

He sent it, but then frowned, wondering if he was being honest.

_Do I even want a place of my own, up there? I've never lived on the surface alone, before._

_But I can't move in with Undyne and Alphys. Not forever. Not if they want children, someday._

So he would have to be alone, then.

He felt queasy at the idea, and his heart ached.

He knew what he wanted, and he knew he could never have it.

That was the _real_ reason why he'd taken so long to move.

The next message was from Frisk. It was strange, and had an attachment – a music file. He read the message and tilted his head, bemused.

_“Papi, listen to this. Then trust me, and listen to it again.”_

He shrugged; maybe it would make sense once he listened to whatever it was.

So he opened it, and listened.

He didn't move, his eyes locked on the phone, as it played. He watched the seconds tick by, watched as Alphys and Undyne replied, but he didn't move, didn't even read the messages.

He listened.

By the end, he was in tears, the kind of tears that require your entire body to participate, lest they smother you.

He set the phone down and hunched over, sobbing into his hands, deaf and blind and _stupid, so stupid..._

Shakily, he reached out, and pressed play, again.

He trusted Frisk.

So he listened again.

And by the end, he understood completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a brief hiatus on this story for a time, as there are other stories demanding my attention, more. However, it likely won't be for very long, but I figured I'd warn about it, just in case.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back. Sorry for the wait. Here we go!

**PART TWO: WINTER**   
**Chapter Twenty-One**

It was Wing who said it best: “Time can either sweeten, sour, or solidify wine, depending on the vintage and storage. And you two idiots are _disgustingly_ sweet.”

But beneath those words, they both heard it: he was proud of them both, and overjoyed by Asgore's happiness.

Even Toriel could see the relief on Asgore's face when Wing had said that, as well as the tears that welled up in his eyes. Toriel was glad that this dinner was for the three of them alone (save the wait staff, but they stayed away until called), as she knew Asgore hated crying in public.

It was the night before their wedding, and if there was a pause in any sound, they could hear the whistling, howling rush of snow outside the walls of the Palace, even as deep as they were within Toriel's wing.

Asgore had a wing of his own, now, too, for both himself and – should they ever wish it – his parents. It was across from Toriel's, and it was opulent and beautiful.

He really did love it.

Really.

It was traditional that the future spouses – in this case, a bride and a groom – lived on the same floor during their Engagement Year, but in separate wings.

It was how things were always done, and how Toriel and Asgore expected to continue when the time came.

Mostly.

As while Asgore worked, was tutored, entertained guests, spent quality time with his family, and had all of his belongings moved into that wing, he had only slept there once, just once, in that entire year: the first night he ever slept within the Palace.

Toriel smiled, thinking about that, now, as she watched Asgore chuckle, then get up and hug his best friend tight – before bursting into tears against his shoulder.

* * *

Both had been rather nervous that night, she remembered fondly. They were certain they would be able to do this, and truly wanted it to happen.

But there was always a small, nagging fear, that tiny “What if?”, that made them both anxious and sleepless.

So, that night, when the Palace was asleep, Toriel slipped into her nightclothes and walked down the halls of the Palace, as silent as a bat, and stopped at Asgore's front door.

She then hesitated; was she overreacting? What if she looked like a silly fool, and made him think her flighty and stupid?

But before she could even try to knock quietly, the door yawned open, and revealed her fiancé, looking tired and almost... _small_... behind that door.

Their eyes met.

“Gorey,” she murmured, able to see as clear as crystal that he, too, was lonely and frightened.

“It's so _big_ ,” he whispered in reply. “When the sun is out, it feels so much smaller, but... even with candles... it's so big. It's _too_ big, Tori...”

His eyes wavered, bright blue and glassy with that fear, that dreadful isolation...

She reached up and touched his cheek. “You'll get used to it, love,” she told him. “It'll take time, but you will. If your parents move in, it'll be easier."

Asgore reached up and held her hand against his face. Both were lit only by Toriel's candle, one she held a little shakily to the side. His eyes closed, and he sniffled.

“Gorey?” she repeated, starting to worry about him. “Are you alright?”

“I'm so lonely,” he admitted tearfully, lowering his head and sliding her hand up beneath his ear. She automatically started scratching, and he sighed deeply, relaxing a little.

“Gorey,” she murmured, smiling a little when he tilted his head a little, so she could scratch just right. “Would you like some company...?”

He jolted, then stood up, nodding right away. His eyes widened, blinking hard, and he kept nodding, his fangs sinking into his bottom lip. He reached up and held her face, and she smiled at him. She loved it when he touched her face, always.

“Please, Toriel,” he begged. “I'm... it's so... it's just...”

And Toriel pushed him back inside, closed the door behind her – and took him back to his bed.

She made sure he slept well that night, indeed.

* * *

She smiled a little dopily, the wine starting to get to her a little, now. She watched Asgore babble to Wing that he loved him dearly, and she felt warm inside, warmer than the wine.

After that night, Asgore snuck into _her_ chambers, as per her suggestion. At first, she did it to help him get used to the Palace.

But soon, she didn't want him to leave – and he didn't want to leave.

So now, they always spent their nights in her side of the Palace, which was just fine with her – and her parents. Her father admitted to her once he found out that he and Alexandrine had been just as bad, and she laughed – then cried, hugging him tight. She knew what he was saying with that, and it touched her heart, and made it stronger.

After they married, Asgore would still keep his wing, until either they had children, or her parents passed away; that would have them moving into the Royal Chambers, in their stead.

Toriel hoped it would be a very long time before _that_ happened.

When Asgore sat back down, he was still crying. Toriel eyed his wine glass, but it was almost full, still. She bit her lip, her eyes going to Wing, and he smiled at her, nodding slightly. It helped, and she nodded.

This year, she'd gotten to know Wing better, too, and found she really rather liked him. He was gentle, and shy, but he also had steel blood, and always stood his ground. He was constantly spoken down to at first, thought to be unable to understand even the simplest of things.

When Toriel found out, she also found out that she needn't do a thing; he'd taken the staff to task and told them off, writing the words with his magic so there would be no misunderstandings.

She'd been impressed; she'd formally hired him as Asgore's tutor, then personal valet once they got Asgore a real tutor.

And the best part was that “personal valet” was code for “learn everything you want in the Royal Library”.

Wing did more than that, though; he supported Asgore, helped him adjust alongside himself, and was able to comfort him when she could not.

She never suspected anything more between them, and was right not to.

One of her own staff had passed a staff-wide placating explanation to her, as if trying to reassure her for something she didn't need it for.

“Even in the most secret places, it's always innocent, Princess,” her own valet said, looking relieved. “Maybe hugs and familial kisses, but nothing beyond that.”

“Why would you _ever_ think I would assume _otherwise_?” she'd demanded, furious that her trust in her fiancé was already being questioned.

It shut him up, and he - and the rest of the staff - never mentioned it, again.

No, Toriel loved Wing, too, now. Not as much as Asgore loved him, and not even close to how much she loved Asgore, but she still loved Wing, like a sister would a younger, exasperating, but also rather endearing, brother.

She was glad at least Wing had eventually moved in here with Asgore, and knew that he would be the one to remain in Asgore's section of the Palace, even if Asgore's parents decided to, as well. There was plenty of room, from when Royal families had to house up to four families at all times.

She'd even offered Wing his own – well – wing, but he'd declined.

“I want to stay with Asgore,” he'd admitted. “He's still adjusting. So am I."

But the year had been immensely kind to Asgore.

The people – the monsters – _adored_ him, especially anyone outside nobility. They saw him, correctly, as one of them, still, as well as their true voice within the Chambers, and supported him as such.

Asgore had been amazed at first, before he was thrilled as well as relieved. He'd been afraid no one would accept him, but most of the population already did.

And Asgore never took them for granted. He cherished each monster, spoke to as many as possible, and worked his fluffy ass off to meet as many demands as he could and within reason, for everyone involved.

He wasn't even a Prince, yet, and already, they loved him like a King.

The humans, on the other hand...

She sniffed, chewing thoughtfully on her steak. They were still angry at her for breaking the engagement with the human Prince, and she damn well knew she'd caused avoidable discord within their combined Chambers.

 _But_...

Whenever she thought about the human Prince, her entire body went tight, like she were bracing for a fall out of a tree, and onto hard mud. Whenever she heard his name in passing, or saw something that meant he was nearby, she flinched, felt herself blanch, felt like she wanted to hide...

He frightened her.

And she loathed _anyone_ who _ever_ made her feel that way.

“Tori.”

She looked up and smiled, her eyes landing on Asgore's. They were bright, mismatched, tonight, but sparkling with teary mirth. She glanced at Wing, who was similarity beaming at her, and she sat up, wondering if she'd missed something.

“Yes?” she asked softly, a little confused, now.

Asgore looked at her, and she looked back, feeling her cheeks heat up.

Still, he held her in thrall.

Still, he made her feel wild, crazy things.

Still, she knew her heart was safe with his.

And she knew it even better, now, after such an educational and sweetly-dreamlike year...

“Are...? Are you alright?” he asked her, his smile flickering a bit.

“Yes,” she repeated, honestly. She reached over and covered her hand with his, and he smiled steadily, now, holding it tight.

“Hm,” Wing wrote above his head as he chewed. “Good thing, marrying on the Solstice; _longest night_ of the year.”

And he smirked quite lewdly.

Both Asgore and Toriel laughed rather happily, though Asgore threw a dinner roll at him – one he caught and ate carefully, a nibble at a time.

“Still won't be _long enough_ ,” Toriel decided. She trusted Wing, and knew she could speak as she pleased him front of him, and not worry about it being spread about.

Asgore smirked, this time. “Will _anything_ be?” he wondered idly.

Toriel smiled archly at him. “No,” she lied.

“Mercy!” he begged. “I take it back!”

“Damn right,” she agreed, nodding, and he laughed, leaning over and kissing her cheek.

“Do you think the storm will let up?” Wing then wondered, his eyes on one of the windows. “It might cause guests several delays - or absences.”

Toriel considered this. Ebott was one of the very few rural towns left in their part of the world, and there had been rumours of war, of _brutal_ war, going on in more developed places.

But so far, Ebott had remained untouched. It was a mountain town, isolated and private, and in truth, Toriel wondered how far behind they were as a people.

 _Are they better integrated in the cities?_ she pondered idly, distracted, now. _Or are they separated, like most of the towns closest to us?_

 _Which isn't very close,_ she added to herself, chewing on her fork. We're still rather isolated...

_What is going on out there?_

_What are we missing?_

_And is it good that we're missing it, or bad?_

_What will happen if these tensions we have worsen?_

_What became of the humans and monsters in those other towns, cities, countries?_

_What will become of_ us _...?_

“Tori, love,” Asgore called gently, and she snapped out of it, blushing. “Come back?”

“I’m sorry,” she admitted. “I... I know there will likely be many delays, but there's little we can do. Royal Weddings are always on the Solstice closest to the last day of the Engagement Year.”

Asgore nodded, as did Wing. Toriel's parents had also wed on the Winter Solstice, after all.

“Personally, if only _five_ people make it, I couldn't care less,” she finally confessed. “As long as I can marry you, Gorey, I don't care.”

Asgore beamed at her, his eyes filling with tears, again, and she stood up and hugged him tight.

It made Wing laugh, and Asgore spluttered a little, but his grin was wide as well as shy, and Toriel simply hugged him tighter.

 _Tomorrow, you are_ _mine_ , she told him silently, as she nuzzled his nose with her own. _And I am_ _yours_.

 _It can't come a moment sooner,_ she concluded happily.

She made this especially clear by casually sitting in Asgore's lap – and starting to eat _his_ steak.

When he laughed so hard he almost made them both fall to the floor, she knew, that moment above all the rest, that she'd made the right choice in her mate.

 _The only choice, really,_ she decided happily. _The only choice I want to have._

It was a decision that, regardless of time, never wavered, and never changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the first time I've given hints about the time period this takes place in. If you squint, it's very obvious, but if not, it'll be clear by the time Part Two ends, I assure you.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

That night, they slept together, despite everyone saying they had to stay apart for tradition's sake.

Asgore had decidedly had enough of tradition, and decided his feelings – and Toriel's – were more important, and luckily, he discovered that she felt the same way.

When Wing disappeared down toward Asgore's wing, he glanced at Asgore, but of course he shook his head, his eyes flicking to Toriel. When he looked back, he expected Wing to be hurt by this; Asgore was, after all, spending his last night as a single man in the arms of the one stealing that singleness away, instead of with his best friend in the whole world.

But that best friend knew better, and merely reinforced that friendship by knowing what was best for Asgore at that moment, and being with Toriel was what he needed.

Wing knew that. And he didn't seem to mind or be hurt by it. If anything, he agreed, and smiled briefly before he left them alone.

Asgore found himself loving Wing all the more, because of this understanding – and it was a love Wing accepted with quiet grace, and one he never betrayed or took advantage of.

Toriel's eyes followed Wing until he was gone, then went to Asgore's. She looked mildly surprised upon seeing Asgore still there, and she blinked, hesitating; she'd been about to head to bed.

“Gorey?” she called softly, circling back and touching his cheek. His eyes remained on hers, and he watched her expression soften, then relax, when she saw how he felt; mixed emotions, sure, but still willing to sift through them with Toriel, and no one else.

When he smiled and touched her cheek, she relaxed, smiling in return.

“Forgive me,” she whispered, the room dark, now that supper was over and the sun was down. “I wouldn't of been angry with you had you decided to be alone, tonight.”

Asgore knew this, above anything else; she made it clear every single night that his company within her bed was a treat. Even as it became common-place, Toriel still seemed to treasure each night like it was the last of its kind.

“Of all the nights to be alone,” he murmured, noticing, as usual, how purple her eyes looked in the dim light, “this is the last one I’d want to spend alone, let alone without you.” ~~~~

“Oh, Gorey, you have years and years to get used to me,” she sighed, her eyes flicking down and at their feet. “You might as well take advantage of your last night as a free man, and _sleep_ free.”

Asgore rolled his eyes, something she didn't catch, but it didn't matter. He didn't want to ‘sleep free', but with his future wife. He didn’t care how many nights he'd spend in her arm, or if he never slept alone for the rest of his life.

Because all of it meant waking up next to _her_. And even if it took a hundred years, he was willing to risk tiring of her later, if it mean loving her, now.

Yet he would never tire of her. And while he never knew it, especially later on, _she_  was never tired of _him_.

“Tori?” he whispered, pressing his lips between her horns, to the soft part of her hair, her always-short and always-soft hair.

She began to look up, but stopped once she felt him, and she murmured, “Yes?”

“Please... just assume I’d rather spend my time with you. No matter what. No matter the context,” he said softly, meaning every word. “Just _assume_ , take me for granted.”

She stiffened at that, but he went on, not knowing why.

“Take advantage of it, of _me_ , and always assume there is nowhere else I’d rather be than here, at your side – or even better, in your arms.”

Toriel was quiet for a moment long enough to worry him. “Tori?” he added.

“Asgore,” she answered, her voice low and soft. “I will _never_ take you for granted.”

 _Oh_.

Asgore pulled away a bit to look at her, but she kept her face averted, using it to pull away, completely. She moved toward the table, immediately fussing with the things left upon it, and tried to start cleaning it.

Asgore had learnt, over this year, that if Toriel not only went quiet – but started fussing and cleaning – it mean she was _very_ upset. He hesitated, knowing that if he tried to stop her, she'd just squirm away, so he kept where he was.

“Toriel,” he said. She hesitated, her hands shaking. “Toriel, I don't mean, do it all the time, and _use_ me that way.”

Toriel set the dishes she held back down onto the table, her back to him.

But she nodded, so he went on, glad he'd gotten it right.

“I mean, it's okay to expect me to be here, with you and at your side, especially after tomorrow,” he clarified. “I know you won't use me, Tori. That's why I said it at all. If I thought you would, I would not offer.”

Toriel turned around at that, her eyes wide and watery, and he felt his own eyes sting, hating the fact that he made her cry.

But then, she clarified. “I'm not upset with you, with the fact that you want to do that for me. I'm grateful,” she admitted. “I am. But... I don't want to do that. Especially if I go too far.”

Asgore was very confused. What on earth was she talking about? “I know you won't,” he insisted.

Toriel finally lost her temper. “But _I_ do not know that I won't!” she cried. “If things get bad, and I depend on you that way, who knows what could happen? I _know_ I’m selfish, Asgore! I _know_ I would take advantage of your kindness!”

Asgore had had enough. He went back to her and hugged her, and she didn't pull away. However, she didn't return it, instead just leaning against him lightly, her arms limp at her sides.

“Do you really think I don't know how you are, Toriel?” he wondered, reaching up and stroking her hair, then one of her ears, before moving his hand over to the other side of her head to repeat it on that side. She relaxed a little, but she still did not hug him, and he frowned.

“Do you not think I do?” he wondered.

She shook her head slowly. “No, I know you do,” she admitted. “I've been bare and naked to you for an entire year, hiding absolutely nothing; if you didn't know me by now, tomorrow would be cancelled.”

Asgore smiled a little; she was starting to sound like she felt a little better, and he was glad. “So you know that, if you begin to use me, I’d not only realise it, I’d tell you, do you not?”

Toriel hesitated, and inwardly, he sighed; he'd been right. “I _would_ , Tori,” he insisted. “I would tell you if you were crossing any lines.”

“Would you?” she answered quickly, surprising him. “You're _so_ kind, Asgore. You're so giving, and generous, and _selfless_. Would you even notice? Would you even _care_?”

Asgore sighed. “Yes, I would,” he answered a little sharply. “Because I know how important it is to notice such things, especially with who you are. Every gesture counts. You would warn me long before I _ever_ let you hurt me.”

Toriel shivered, surprising him. “Gorey,” she whispered. “I'm _scared_.”

He blinked with more surprise, especially when she reached up and grabbed hold of him, holding him tight.

Before he could ask, she continued. “I'm scared that something is going to mess everything up, that something bad will happen with the humans, and that it will be my fault, _all_ my fault, and I can't change a thing!”

Asgore held her closer, kissing her forehead a few times, and she buried her face into his shoulder. “Toriel,” he murmured. He waited until she nodded before he went on. “We're going to do just fine.”

“Asgore, no, listen... I’m scared of the humans...” she blurted out, her voice muffled. “I said no to a union with them, choosing you instead of them, because I fell in love with you. But I refused the marriage _before_ I met you. So if something bad happens with the humans, it _will_ be my fault, because if I’d married the Prince, it would have never _happened_...”

Her voice broke, and she clung to him, trying as hard as she could to stop crying – and failing. It was clear to him that she'd been holding that in for a long time, and was now only saying it out of panic.

She loved him, he knew.

But she loved her people, too.

And he knew her heart would break if something happened that would endanger her people.

But tomorrow, they'd become _his_ people, too. And with that, he had every intention of helping her through anything and everything – including anything human-related.

“Darling,” he whispered to her, and again, she shivered and crept closer to him, nodding. “Tomorrow, everything is shared between us, including this. Therefore, nothing will ever be your fault, alone. Never again.”

Toriel dug her fingers into his back and started crying softly, her face hidden in his shoulder. “Gorey, I don't want it to destroy the beauty you have within you,” she sobbed out.

“It will not,” he replied firmly, meaning it. “With you, I know things will keep getting better, no matter what, no matter how trying.” He smiled a little. “With you at my side, I will always have some kind of beauty around me.”

“Gorey...” she murmured shyly, nudging him a little and hiding her face more. He laughed and rubbed his cheek against the top of her head, and she hugged onto him, again.

After a moment, he heard Toriel whisper, “Let's go to bed, Gorey.”

He shivered, this time, and smiled with a nod, before pulling away, then taking hold of her arm into his. She smiled up at him, the kind that, he knew, she only gave him, and him alone.

Which was why, halfway down the hallway, he suddenly picked her up and – with a triumphant laugh to her startled giggles – raced the rest of the way toward her bedroom.

They were kissing before the doors were even fully closed.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Toriel didn't know what woke her, but _something_ did. She opened her eyes, finding it to be dark, still, and she turned around, finding Asgore still in her bed, on his back and snoring lightly, and she relaxed a little.

She smiled, then, when she noticed his tiny smile. She wondered what he was dreaming about, something that made him so happy that he smiled in his sleep, but she refused to wake him to find out. Why take him out of that happiness?

For a moment, Toriel remained there, her eyes adjusting to the dim light as she reached out and lightly traced Asgore's face. He twitched a little, but stayed sleeping, and she smiled wider. Her fingertips toyed with the whiskers now sprouting under his nose, the beginnings of a good moustache, and she had to swallow a giggle.

He'd been trying for three months to grow a proper moustache, and so far he only had a handful of whiskers to show for it, around his lips and upon his chin, little blond hairs that poked through the white fur.

And all because she'd mentioned, in passing, how she liked facial hair on people.

Suddenly, her smile vanished, and her eyes filled with tears. She pulled her hand away, then turned away, before sitting up, grabbing her robe, and wrapping it around herself.

It hurt, sometimes, the way he always sought to please her...

Then, she got to her feet, and slipped out of the bedroom, vanishing out the door and toward the stairway. She rushed up them, eager for height, and let herself out and onto the roof of the tower of the wing, relaxing a little when the night air hit her.

It was a bitterly cold night, winter holding them in its thrall quite happily, and while the storm had died down, it was a kind of cold that let Toriel know she wasn't going to be able to stay for long in, but still wanted to try, anyway.

So she walked out onto the roof, hugging herself against the wind and peering out over the ledge as close as possible. She briefly summoned up a light, as well as kept a flame between her hands for warmth, but otherwise, she simply stood close to the ledge – and was quiet, her eyes flicking around below.

Below, Ebott was covered in snow, like sugar, and it was enchanting, in a way. If she looked at it like this, and memorised it, she could pretend that the houses weren't humming with conflict, weren't close to bursting with that conflict.

Toriel bit her lip, and looked away, to the horizon. The stars were nonexistent in the overcast sky, but she could still see, far away, the faint glow of the closest city. It was like a banked ember, glimmering but sleepy, and she wondered once again, what was happening, there.

 _Are all of my worries, my fears, for naught?_ she asked the city silently. _Everything that is frightening me, making me hesitate..._

_Is it all meaningless, in the whole of things?_

_Am I worrying about something frivolous, while the rest of the world keeps going, leaving us behind like this?_

_Perhaps_ that's _where I need to start._

She sighed, shivering and gritting her teeth against it. She'd spent too long out here, and now she was cold. She walked slowly back to the door, her eyes on the horizon.

Her mind was still in the city when she shuffled back into her bedroom. She noticed that Asgore was still sleeping, and she smiled; his snoring oddly comforted her, and invited her back to bed.

Asgore, however, awoke immediately when she accidentally touched him, her skin still very cold. He snorted, reaching for her, and she blinked, just as his eyes opened, and his hands landed on her shoulders.

 “Cold,” he murmured, looking concerned. “Cuddle?” he offered, lifting the duvet up and pulling on her a little. She smiled and dove under, and he pulled her close, tucking them both in while shivering a little alongside her, now.

“Ugh,” he concluded. “Why are you so cold?”

“Thinking,” she replied, nuzzling his neck and closing her eyes.

“Mm...” he murmured, his own eyes fluttering closed. “Tell me in the morning...?”

Toriel nodded. “I will. Go back to sleep.”

He nodded, and within minutes, had obeyed, his snores returning.

She burrowed closer to him and inhaled his scent, sighing when it brought her deep comfort.

She followed him not long after.

* * *

“Toriel...”

She stirred awake, feeling familiar hands in her hair, and she grinned before she opened her eyes.

When she did, she found Asgore smiling at her, and she slipped closer and kissed his lips for a moment, unable to resist. He returned it, with avid interest, and it took a moment for them to break apart.

Asgore did, however, disappointing Toriel a little, but when he held her face in his hands, she relaxed.

“Tori,” he murmured, “It’s today.”

“I have eyes,” she agreed, moving them to the window, where the bright sunlight – especially reflected by snow – was glaringly obvious.

“Are you...?” Asgore hesitated, looking worried. “Are you certain about this? You can back out, still.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Asgore,” she sighed, rolling her eyes at him. She threw her arms around his neck, tangling her hands into his loose, long hair, and he smiled a little, his eyes warming up. “You _know_ my patience is too short for that kind of nonsense.”

Asgore nodded a little, which calmed her immensely. “I just...” he added. “I know _I’m_ certain. But I want to make sure _you_ are. Why...? Why were you on the roof last night?”

 _Ah, that's where this is leading,_ she realised. _Oops_.

“Neither doubt nor fear drove me to the roof,” she answered truthfully. “I was just... worrying.”

His eyes searched hers. “Price Ronald?”

She sighed. She should've known he would've been able to get it right in one go. “Am I that transparent?” she wondered, stroking his hair slowly.

“Only to me,” he replied. “And I know you're worried, despite knowing much better.”

She smiled a little. He went on.

“I know why you did so, and I agree with it all,” Asgore then admitted, a little shyly. “He's dangerous, and right now, not what our peoples need. And... and it would come with the price of your safety...”

His eyes darkened, before lowering and going unfocused, and she swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to shudder.

In truth, she hadn't thought of _that_ aspect of a union with the human prince. She hadn't really considered _anything_ with him, due to disinterest and uneasiness, and could only picture herself beside him as a figurehead, and nothing else.

She'd never stopped to consider what marrying such a person would bring to her _own_ person, her own _body_ , simply because she was that naive. She knew the Prince was an asshole, but she never stopped to consider how deeply it went.

But Asgore had. And it haunted him deeply, she saw.

“Asgore,” she murmured, misunderstanding the depth of that. “I'm not marrying you for that--,”

“Golly, Toriel, _really_?” he interrupted quickly, rolling his eyes, this time – and covering her mouth. “You really think, after what _I_ just asked _you_ , that such a thing is an issue?!”

She smiled, then giggled softly, unable to help it. He was right; it was silly of her.

But then, her mirth faded, and she lowered her eyes, just as his hand dropped. “You don't _really_ think he would...?” she asked - _hoped_.

Asgore bit his lip. “I _know_ he would,” he whispered. “Because I’ve seen it before. If it meant controlling you, breaking you, he would. And he'd like it, too.”

Toriel shuddered, unable to hold it back any longer. “How can you know what it looks like?”

Asgore sighed. “Places where I work. Where... where humans in power employ... then entrap and abuse... monster employees. And _that_ is their favourite method.”

Toriel felt horror sweep through her, mortified that she was just learning this now.

“Asgore,” she breathed out, grabbing his shoulders. “Asgore, we have to stop it. We have to stop that from _happening_. We have to stop it from _continuing_!”

Asgore looked up at her, with an expression she hadn't anticipated: deep affection. He reached up and held her face, and she went quiet, feeling her eyes burn with frustrated tears.

“We will,” he agreed. “We _will_. We'll make it right. We'll stop it from happening, for good.”

Asgore was right: they would stop it, and for good.

But in a way that he – nor Toriel – had never planned for, nor anticipated, in the least.

It would be a bittersweet victory, indeed.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

For most of the time, Asgore was able to ignore it.

When he walked with Toriel down the aisle toward her parents, his own parents flanking the Royal couple wearing their best clothes – and their calmest expressions, it was easy.

Toriel's hand trembled within his, and he held it tight. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, and saw that she looked frightened, her eyes flicking over the seats flanking them as they walked.

When she noticed what he had, her grip on his hand tightened, but her eyes narrowed, before moving forward, once more. Her jaw was set, and her eyes glinted.

Asgore swallowed hard, then. While he didn't know it then, he realised later that, in that moment, he'd just watched the birth of a _Queen_.

But now, all he knew was that she had no regrets. She still had time to say no, but she did not.

And when they knelt before her parents, she remained silent – though he did see a small smile curl her lips, just a little.

She then squeezed his hand, and he relaxed.

She wasn't going to run.

Not yet.

For the entire ceremony, he forgot what had upset them both, and instead focused on the fact that he was not only about to be mated for life, but to a Princess – _the_ Princess.

And she was quite happy about this, too.

The whole ceremony went by in a blur, one hazy and happy but a little nauseating. When time slowed down, Asgore was suddenly standing before a crowd, holding a scimitar in his hands and a crown upon his brow.

Beside him, beaming, was Toriel, holding a rapier and grinning.

When their eyes met, Toriel's suddenly filled with tears, and Asgore bit his lip – then broke down – the moment he understood them.

She leapt up and embraced him, the sword bumping his back harmlessly – she _knew_ swords, her weapon of choice, second only to fire – and he hugged her back, holding his own weapon the same way.

There was laughter, with added cheers. Toriel, upon hearing them, pulled away with a catty grin, then reached up and kissed Asgore with that grin. He was so embarrassed by his tears that he returned it, happy for a pleasant distraction, and the laughter increased, the cheers turning to cat-calls.

Asgore felt a hand on his shoulder, then a tug, and he looked up to find himself being held by his now-father-in-law, who also held his daughter the same way – something she pouted at quite haughtily.

Then, more hugs, and things were blurs, again.

But there was one moment when his eyes hesitated over the crowd, and could not find what was lacking, still.

He felt uneasy, even when Wing caught his gaze and held up his hands – before using them to illustrate what he knew would occur that night between the newlyweds.

When Toriel launched herself at Wing, still holding her father's sword, Asgore laughed – and so did the rest of his family.

His entire family.

He was a Dreemurr, now.

* * *

The reception was breathtaking, and the new Prince almost fainted.

Purples and silvers and dashes of blue were what he saw first, those bright, beautiful colours of monster royalty. Drapes of thin fabrics in those colours were pinned up to the ceiling but hung in a way that made them look like cotton candy. The tables were decorated with shiny, glittery cloths, beautiful centrepieces of blue, purple, and white flowers, the chairs matching, too.

The head table was even more elaborate, complete with two throne-like seats for himself and Toriel.

His _wife._

_Toriel, my wife._

Toriel, who was beaming, her eyes watering with genuine affection and tenderness for her people, and she had to keep herself quiet to keep from weeping; Asgore could easily tell, and he pulled her closer, before leading her – and their family – to that head table.

Once there, however, both Princess and Prince noticed again that damning lack, and they shared a concerned look.

“Weather?” Toriel whispered hopefully, under her breath.

“Tori...” Asgore replied, kissing the top of her head. She knew better, and they both knew it.

“Gorey, I… I’m… I'm sc--," Toriel stammered, but was cut off abruptly by the arrival of the first course, and for the next hour, they were distracted by such delicious foods.

Beside him sat his mother, and his father was beside her. Silas looked actually rather calm – _happy_ , even – and when their eyes met, Asgore's burned with tears.

Silas had tears of his own in his eyes. And Silas was not like Asgore; he did not cry easily.

“Dad...?” he murmured, leaning over and reaching a hand out over in front of his mother – who smirked and ate around his arm, poking his arm a little with her fork. “Are you alright?”

Silas looked away, clearing his throat. “Well,” he said, between mouthfuls of food to prolong his speech, Asgore knew. “Gorey...”

Asgore's heart lifted. Silas hadn't called him that in over a year, now. He knew Silas was having trouble adjusted to this new lifestyle his son had thrust upon him, over mere days, and spoke to Asgore as such: a little cold, very calm, and very hidden.

It had _hurt_. He loved Silas, and wanted him to be happy. Goryn, he knew, had taken as much time as possible to convince him of the good of this change, and perhaps it had finally sunken in.

He was _dreadfully_ wrong.

Silas noticed Asgore's expression, and with a look to Goryn, he switched places with his wife – and hugged Asgore the second he could.

Asgore clung to him, bursting into tears. He felt Toriel touch his back, knowing how much this meant to him, and he felt even better.

 _“Papa,”_ Asgore sobbed. “I truly didn't mean to hurt you!”

“I know,” Silas whispered, kissing his son's cheek and hugging him tight. “I'm a fool. The moment that crown settled upon your brow, I realised what a jackrabbit I’ve been, and I beg your forgiveness, Gorey."

Asgore blinked, then pulled away a little to look at Silas. “What do you mean?” he wondered.

Silas reached up and adjusted Asgore's crown with a gentle smile, and Asgore blushed; he'd forgotten he'd even been wearing it, still, the feel of it rather soothing and comforting.

“When I saw you lean into it, to accept the crown, I saw what you were _truly_ accepting, and how brave and difficult that is.” Silas smiled wider. “I truly did assume poorly that you and Toriel would not last. I underestimated you, when you deserved all of the credit I could _ever_ give you.”

Asgore struggled to speak, but instead sobbed, and Silas held him tight. Again, Asgore felt Toriel touch him gently, and he shut his eyes, feeling so lucky and happy and _loved_...

When he could, Asgore moved away and kissed his father's cheek, speechless, still.

“You're welcome, lad,” he replied softly, smiling with such pride that Asgore felt more tears well up within him.

This time, it was Toriel who pulled him into an embrace, and before she did, Asgore saw her glance at Silas and silently ask permission, and saw Silas give it. He grabbed her tight, sobbing hard.

Already, Toriel had accepted his family, and treated them as her own.

“I love you,” Asgore croaked out, kissing her nose several times and making her wrinkle it with a smile. _“I love you, Tori.”_

“Shut the fuck up and eat,” she replied cheerfully.

Then, she meant close, and whispered, so that only he could hear: “But do save your appetite. Once we're alone, I’d still like you to... _eat.”_

Asgore spluttered from both shyness and sudden arousal, and he laughed, burying his face between her breasts and bringing up loud, unrestrained laughter from his new wife.

He wanted that sound in his head for life.

Even as he felt a wave of uneasy foreboding wash over him, when his eyes fell on the tables of guests. The embrace helped, but not enough to push that uneasiness away.

No humans were seated at any of the tables.

None.

There were absolutely no humans in attendance of their wedding.

Not even the King, Queen, or Prince. Hell, not even a vizier or valet, to offer excuses as to why.

They did not come, and their people followed their lead.

Both Toriel and Asgore knew what it meant, knew the insult's depth and felt the pain of it, and it made them tremble with fear, deep inside.

Their embrace suddenly turned soft, and they held each other tight, but with tenderness.

Asgore could feel Toriel trembling, and knew he was, too. They were both frightened, despite the fact that they were not even close to being in power, yet. It was always possible that they'd never have to deal with the obvious conflict on the horizon, and that Toriel's parents would be in power before and after the problem was solved.

And yet, Asgore knew Toriel, by now, and knew that she was already planning her response to this insult, and the growing dissension that caused it.

She was preparing for _war_.

But Asgore wanted to prepare for _peace_.

It would be their first instance of the tension between them, the fact that they weren't totally alike, and Toriel tended to approach things that scared her head-first.

Asgore did not; he liked trying to negotiate, to calm with words, so that no blood or dust was shed.

It would be their first test upon their bond, one they'd survive, yes. But the follow-ups, as they increased, had that bond weakening, loosening, and it seemed unlikely that it could be fixed.

And this problem would plague them both for decades – and soon break them apart.

But not yet.


End file.
